7:54 p.m. | 2003-02-03 Dry Clean Only. I feel like I�ve been spun through the washer and then tumbled in the dryer like a raggedly old towel. Sore, sore, sore. I sure do need me that alphabet sleep. In other news, Dearest Sister sent me home with my very own Homie. How exciting is that? Now I just have to figure out what to do with him. He�s a tough-looking bastard too. If he was 6� tall and not plastic, he could be my personal bodyguard. Not that I need one. I�m just saying. However, as he�s only 1�� tall and plastic, I don�t think he can even protect me from the dust bunny militia that�s currently overtaking my floors. Other cool things that I came home with include my grandfather�s driver�s license from 1943, my grandmother�s war ration book issued to her when she was 23 years old, and a couple of my father�s old belt buckles. Anyway, here�s a quip between Dearest Sister�s Eldest Son and Youngest Son during Saturday night dinner. (ES:) Hey dude, you�re wearing my pants. (YS:) No I�m not. These pants were at the house and you don�t live there anymore so they�re not your pants. (ES:) Well, mom�s clothes are at the house; do you wear them? (YS:) NO! (ES:) Why not? (YS:) Because they�re GIRL clothes. And, there�s NO WAY I�d wear a bra. What a pain! (DS, CI:) Amen! your thoughts? seed flower