The title is really the hardest part

Or, in Fight Club terms: I am Skip's crushing lack of titular creativity.

Well the Widge and I both have sniffles. He's snoozing now, and I decided to clean the bathroom, for the first time this year. I know you're all thinking I'm blogging in order to stall, but already I cleaned, I'm just waiting for the floor to dry before putting back the diaper pail, toys, and other random stuff that somehow lives in my bathroom. I think instead of thinking of it as random stuff, I'm going to consider it art. Some people spend big money on knick-knacks and random sculptures and stuff for their house, but mine is genuine, pure in the sense that it was created without an eye toward artistic display. My home is a monument to Neo-Victorianism, my clutter comes with all the edge afforded by those T-1 cables and blister-wrapped batteries, the bookcases spill over with odd bits of paper, and the entire thing is somewhat surrealist, post-modern. If we walked away from the house now we could sell the whole mess to a gallery, to be lovingly re-assembled in some cavernous museum, with some vague, haunting title that has no link to the stuff itself. With us here, its just clutter, stuff and junk piled up, but without us around using it, it would all become haunting. There's nothing spookier than a well-stocked changing table, waiting dustily for a baby that will never be powdered here again. And every haunted house the world over is chock full of bookshelves, volumes worn and tattered and musty with secrets they will never reveal.

See, justifying clutter is quicker and easier than removing it.

In the real world, congrats to WVU, and I know you'll all be tuning in to whatever channel is carrying the V Tech game, so keep your eyes opened for #72. From all of us here in the Skiphaus: win those oranges, Forky!