Dec. 11th, 2011

I have made granola and garlic-roasted chickpeas! Not in combination, that would be gross.

I think Dalek Suck, my dutiful roomba, has reached the end of his life. I'm going to give him a good cleaning and see if that helps, but he seems to have turned paranoid; he keeps imagining he's bumping into things. Maybe he's taking up a career as a mime.

Otherwise the weekend's been pretty boring. I'm continuing on the CLEAN ALL THE THINGS kick, which has pleasantly resulted in, for the first time ever, my keeping a static separate backup of all my photo/video/audio files. My old laptop's sudden but inevitable betrayal was a close call, and now with the bigger hard drive on this one I can dedicate the external my stepdad gave me a few years ago to keeping backups rather than my video library.

Mum called about my coming home at Christmas, which should be cool. We have finally found this weird little cadre of television shows we agree on; last time my family shared my fandom it was Harry Potter. I get home on the 24th but Lucky has to work, so me and Mum and Emmy are going to have a SUITS MARATHON in the afternoon, and they haven't seen much White Collar so I'm bringing my DVDs, and I think one evening is scheduled for a festival of Downton Abbey and Nero Wolfe.

We still don't like these shows for the same reasons, which is funny.

SUITS:
Sam: Look at all the wheeling and dealing and banter!
Mum: Patrick J. Adams is Canadian!
Lucky: POWER SUITS! POWER CARS! POWER EVERYTHING!
Emmy: Harvey is cute!

WHITE COLLAR:
Sam: Art history and heists and power games!
Mum: It's just like Catch Me If You Can!
Lucky: Guns and crime!
Emmy: Neal is cute!

Downton Abbey:
Sam: History! Upstairs-downstairs dynamics!
Mum: THE CLOTHES!
Lucky: WAR!
Emmy: Matthew is cute!

Nero Wolfe:
Sam: DETECTIVES AND BANTER.
Mum: The music! The clothes!
Lucky: Guns and crime!
Emmy: Archie is cute!

If you've noticed a certain consistency to my sister's reactions, you'll have to forgive her. She's at that age. Two years ago she was interested in forensic science, now it's mostly boys. I'm confident she'll come back round to forensic science in the end. And frankly, her tastes could be (and have been, in the past) worse than intelligent, professional men in exquisite clothing.

Now I just have to convince her to come to college in Chicago, where she might actually meet some.

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