If anyone was in the vicinity of our house today, you would have seen Noah mowing the lawn and fixing the fence, shirtless and wearing spandex shorts. (OK, maybe not in spandex shorts, but that's how I like to imagine it.) It was all very manly, especially the part where he banged the fence with the hammer and a burrowing bee fell out and he ran screaming into the house. We'll chalk that up to a bad history with stinging insects.
In other news, I just love Roger Federer. He makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside, like I want to hug him and snuggle him like a teddy bear, and possibly even tweak his nose. Is this weird? Probably. But I find him adorable, a fact that is in no way diminished by his large-headed girlfriend, Mirka. In fact, Mirka and her enormous gourd only make him that much more appealing to me. I'm like a doting aunt, and I could just see spending a day frolicking and having fun in a sunny pasture, hitting tennis balls and laughing in the glorious shade courtesy of Mirka's melon.
Roj (that's just a nickname I have for him) is currently struggling due to a bad case of mono, and I feel his pain. For both of us, greatness and world domination are being thwarted by health issues. So you see? We can relate to each other.
And none of these feelings or beliefs or imaginings can be attributed to the several medications I'm currently taking, a list that includes children's Dimetapp, which has the same effect on me as (I assume) a few jiggers of hard liquor. Hopefully I'll be feeling better tomorrow.