I want to get better at making memories instead of just crossing things off my to-do list. Nobody lies on their deathbed wishing they'd organized the garage one more time. Unless there's a suitcase full of money under the Xmas decorations. In which case, somebody should check.

We've become very good at making plans to make money and surprisingly bad at making plans to spend an afternoon laughing. I think we should reverse that occasionally. Put a picnic on the calendar and treat it like a board meeting. I'm discussing confidential sandwich business.

I'm at the grocery store right now, putting things back on the shelves very gently so they don't think I can't afford them. Which I can't. Everything is so fucking expensive. I just whispered to a jar of Kalamta olives that I'd come back for it. I think we both knew I was lying.

I used to think financial security meant having enough money to retire comfortably. Now it means buying a bag of grapes without checking my bank balance first. I haven't reached that level of wealth yet, but I enjoy visiting the grapes.

Three-alarm fire down the street. Power was down for a few hours. Everything smells like smoke. Fortunately, no one was hurt.

Negroni.

Finished the NYT Monday crossword in under four fucking minutes! This is a personal best. I'm considering joining Mensa, although I also just spent ten minutes trying to open a bag of shredded cheese from the wrong end. I assume they'll have questions.

I've never been comfortable sharing photos, but here goes. A year ago, I decided to make working out three times a week part of my life. No grand transformation plan. Just consistency. A year is going to pass whether you do something or not. You might as well surprise yourself.

I'm having lasagna tonight because I believe dinner should have layers. Not just layers of pasta and cheese, but emotional complexity. A hamburger tells you everything immediately. Lasagna makes you work through some things.

Pumpkin Spice Nuclear Winter. Following a full-scale thermonuclear exchange, survivors experience approximately 40 years of reduced sunlight and the scent of a Starbucks Pumpkin Spice Latte. Humanity will be extinct by 2047, but the promo will continue through October 31, 2066.

My plans to binge The Twilight Zone on Netflix were foiled last night. I'll try again tonight, but now there's competition from Marvel's VisionQuest. Rod Serling and Marvel are fighting for control of my television, which sounds suspiciously like an Outer Limits episode.

Four seasons of The Twilight Zone are on Netflix! Turning off the lights, making popcorn, and entering a world where dolls talk, airplanes have gremlins, and the last man on earth wants to read. If you need me, leave a message with the mysterious child at the end of the hallway.

What else? The smell inside a Cinnabon. Corporate insisted that the aroma was not merchandise. Clarkson offered $10,000 for exclusive rights to the scent within a fifty-mile radius, effectively forcing every mall in the region to smell like wet carpeting and divorce.

Kelly Clarkson wanted to buy what? Here are some of the other items she was denied in this week's @WeeklyHumorist weeklyhumorist.com/other-thi…

Tonight I'm watching a wall during a rainstorm. If it stays dry, I can seal it. If it leaks, I have to fix it. If it bleeds, I'm calling the Vatican. I don't know if they send a cardinal or a contractor, but either way, somebody else is climbing onto the roof.