Mario, Maria, and Something Slimy in the Night
It lives somewhere, in some chamber dark and drear I know not of: I know only it must be damp, and cold, and these things are all my consolation, because it hates me and I wish it in hell. At night it moves, sometimes silently, sometimes with barely audible stealth. But I hear it, and…
The dust can take you prisoner and the concrete will not dry. Chinese connectors hurt your eyes but only Ikea makes you cry.
There is a facet of the human psyche which manifests itself at a later point in life; which is peculiar to the married state and a symptom of a deeper malady that, if diagnosed early, can save considerable damage. The facet whereof I speak is, of course, HIM Home Improvement Mania. HIM attacks most partnerships…