"I Love My Country Home"
Pillow-Type Decorative Implement/Apparent Deathtrap

Yeah, I live out in the country. Yeah, we used to have chickens, though we owned Rhode Island Reds and not this generic artist's representation of what appears to be a Barred Plymouth. And yeah, I do rather like my house, despite its many flaws, although I don't think it's quite strong enough to call "love". A family member, say—yes, then it would be love, and quite frankly, I would abandon my beloved country home and live with them under a bridge if the situation warranted. While I enjoy living here, I would not say that about my house. Still, people use "love" to mean lesser sorts of love—like, say, chocolate—so I guess I COULD say I "love" my country home in the sense that, if I DIDN'T "love" it, I would probably move. I mean, duh.

(My suspicion--or perhaps my INTUITION?--is that this little number will prove to be the Schick Razor of 2006. Just a feeling. Prove me wrong!)

I was cleaning house the other day (this whole anecdote, unfortunately, kinda demonstrates just how often I clean house) when I came across this leatherette pouch. We've moved it around from house to house through the years. I always thought it was some grooming utensil my husband kept but when I finally questioned him he didn't know—he thought it was mine. Looking at it I had no idea what in heck 'n' tarnation this thing was, but since it had a power cord I decided to follow my impulse to plug it in and see if the house blows up.