Quality

Not Quality: The previous owners of my house
It's not difficult to not suck at fixing up a house. I'm not professional grade, but I don't suck at it. And I don't really have to try very hard not to suck. I don't understand why you would cover holes in the floor and walls with poorly affixed tile. Not only did he just stick glue on the back of the tile without prepping the walls first, he didn't even get white tile. He bought the cheap, ugly, gold tile, and then painted it. Painted the tile. Because that won't scrape right off. So, we've been fixing up the bathroom this weekend. We're doing things a lot simpler, which means less expensive, but somehow it's turning out to be better quality. I spackled and textured the wall tonight. I have high hopes for the finished product. Anything will be better than white tile that isn't really white.

Quality: Adelaide
1. She doesn't like when people watch her do her business. So, she only does it in the back of the yard behind the bushes. We call her a perimeter-pooper. Which also means we don't have to clean up the yard after her.
2. Thursday, when Josh was on call, I left the door between our room and Adelaide's room open when I went to bed. She saw what I'd done, picked up her bed, brought it into my room, set it next to my bed, and went to sleep there. I like her.

Dude, Google It.

My grocery checker and bagger were having an interesting conversation while taking care of my groceries this week. I tried to stay out of it because it was so darned entertaining that I didn't want to get in the way. They were arguing about whether or not marijuana causes cancer and kills your brain cells. The checker was saying that yes, it does those things, while the bagger was defending what turns out to be his favorite hobby. His best defense was as follows:
"Dude, I do it all the time, and it hasn't made me any less smarter."

That very well could be true, we don't know how dumb he was to begin with.