Years ago, when we were in college, John and I were flipping channels one night and came across a standup act on HBO. My roommate and I didn't get HBO, so the picture was terribly grainy, but we caught enough of it to know that we needed to see more of this British comedian named Eddie Izzard. His comedy was not only funny, it was smart- something you don't see too often in an age when "git 'er done" sends many people into uproarious laughter. I called the cable company the very next day and bought HBO, just so we could catch the show again. Ever since then, John and I have wanted to see Eddie live. In college, we never had the money to go see him. But a few months ago, I found out that he was going on tour again in the states. We spent last night in Tampa, seeing Eddie perform live, at last. And I don't think I've ever laughed so damned hard. My stomach still aches from laughing for over two hours straight. There were many times when I was laughing so hard that I was crying, laughing so hard that I had to keep wiping tears from my face, laughing so hard that I had a hard time catching my breath. If you have the means, and you have the opportunity, I highly recommend you go see Eddie live. It's an experience you won't soon forget. I can't remember the last time I had So. Much. FUN.

Okay, cards on the table time. The other problem with working from home is the knowledge that my bed is just down the hallway. Can I tell you how much I love that bed (which, let's be honest, I capitalize as if it's a proper noun, as in "Bed")? I have been known, when I'm extra tired, to compose Odes To Bed once I've crawled under the sheets. Usually they're short, like "All Good Things Happen In Bed" or "Bed is So Nice" or something like that. I come by this Bed love affair honestly. My mom also has an affinity for Bed. When I was little, she used to call down the stairs from my parents' room and say, "What would we do without beds?" This Bed Mania isn't without its hazards, though, as every now and again when I'm neck-deep in research, I have the sudden urge to go take a nap. I convince myself that it wouldn't be a long nap, and don't I deserve a little break? And that's just a slippery slope. Because first it's all, "I'll just take a five minute nap." And then it's "I haven't fallen asleep after five minutes, so I might as well set an alarm for an hour from now." And then, before you know it, someone is shaking you and informing you that it's been three days, are you're planning on going back to work ever? I'm just saying.

Crazy Old Neighbor's house went on the market on Sunday and had three offers by Monday afternoon. (How that happens in this kind of market, in this kind of economy, is baffling to me.) The new homeowner came over yesterday to introduce himself and make small talk. He was wearing a beige tracksuit (unbuttoned to reveal the top third of his chest), sported enormous sunglasses, and said to John "you ever got a problem, you call me-- 'cause I'm good at that stuff." I can't be certain, but I think he's actually Elliott Gould as Reuben Tishkoff from the Ocean's movies:

Have you ever stopped to think about the things you used to wear? I'm not talking about that one ill-conceived outfit you wore once and never again. I'm talking about the clothing and accessories you used to sport on a regular, if not a daily basis. Does it make you cringe? Just this morning I was thinking about a necklace that all the girls in junior high were wearing one year. I wanted one SO badly. For my birthday that year, I got one. What was it, you ask? It was a jingle bell necklace. And I thought it was the very essence of cool. And what about tight-rolled jeans? Remember that fad? Are you cringing yet? How about Hypercolor tshirts? Do you ever wonder if there's a trend that people are sporting right now that we'll look back on with incredulity? Oh, wait...

Growing up in Kansas, I learned very early on that tornadoes were a constant threat during the summer. It gets hammered into Kansans that a tornado can strike anywhere, at any time. But I always sort of thought that my hometown would be spared. I'm not quite sure why that is, but I felt like my hometown was invincible. When I checked my email this morning, I had an email from my friend Amy: "Are your parents okay? What about their house???" And my heart sunk: tornado. I called my parents and left a message: "IHEARDTHEREWASATORNADOCALLMEBACK." Then I called my brother, in Baltimore, hoping that he had heard from them. Another answering machine. "THEREWASATORNADOINMANHATTANCALLMEBACK." Finally, I was able to get some news. And after what seemed like an eternity, I talked to my family. My hometown sustained some damage, but thankfully nothing that can't be fixed. It may not be invincible after all, but at least it's still there. phew

The thing about working from home that nobody seems to realize is just how much toilet paper you go through. Think about it! When you're at the office, you occasionally have to use the facilities (let's be adults here and not go into specifics). So you do, and you use office toilet paper. For eight hours a day, five days a week, you've got access to toilet paper that someone else is buying. But when you work from home? Not so much with the free toilet paper. This is something that wasn't explained to me adequately when both John and I started working from home. It wasn't explained at all, come to think of it. So now I have this nagging thought that I should start tracking how much money we spend on toilet paper for the bathroom between our offices, so that I can write it off on our taxes. Hey, it's a home office expense, right? RIGHT?

You may have noticed that I haven't mentioned my crazy old neighbor lately. And you may well be wondering whatever happened to that old codger. Well, you wouldn't be alone. He's been on my mind a lot lately. There was that incident several months ago when he subtly accused John of stealing a carving set of his. He actually called the police out to his house, but found the carving set just as they pulled up to his house. Then there was that incident not long after that when he called our house and demanded that we pay a $200 false-alarm charge on his home security bill. That was fun. It became clear to us that he was going downhill quite quickly. He mentioned to John, in passing, that he had gotten lost on his way home from the doctor not long ago. And we wondered if there was anything we could do to help him. Why did his children seem unconcerned about their aging father? Then, out of the blue, his son came down for a visit about two months ago. After which, our crazy old neighbor completely disappeared. His lawn service kept mowing his lawn and keeping the grounds tidy. But otherwise there was no sign of life in the house next door. Then suddenly, this past weekend, there was a flurry of activity. Several cars, including the son's, pulled up to the house, along with a realtor. Then one of those PODS (Portable On Demand Storage) showed up in the driveway. And as the contents of the house got loaded into the waiting pod, I couldn't help but wonder what happened to our crazy old neighbor. Hopefully he's somewhere with a much shorter fence, so that he doesn't have to drag a ladder out to see over it.

(Incidentally, the title of this post emanates not from where I think he's gone, but rather where I think I'm headed since I bellyached about him forever and now he may be dead. Ahem.)