S.A.D.

seasonal affective disorder is real. ask bob.

it's official. i married george constanza.

walking through our bedroom the other afternoon, i spotted knox's wallet on the dresser. it stopped me in my tracks, and i just had to go get the camera...

i wouldn't be surprised to find receipts in there from 2007. really, the man throws nothing away. when i asked him about it, he strutted around in a display of pack-rat pride, as if it were some sort of status symbol or proof of his... what? i can't even begin to wonder. i asked, "but how can you sit down?" to which he replied, "i carry it up front." still, it must throw off his gait a bit, no?

i mean seriously, LOOK at this thing!

it's the mini-version of the tower of paper he keeps on his desk, the staging ground for the wad of receipts he keeps in his bedside table, both of which also drive me bananas. but in the end, i can't complain: he does our taxes and finds clever hiding places for his stacks of paper when i start to get that wild-eyed OCD look he's come to know so well. and really, i guess i should be thankful that he doesn't bring deli sandwiches to bed!!