Dear The Universe, I love you. Please be nice to me. Love, Jennie

So far, today is the best day ever. I hope I'm not jinxing myself by saying that. I mean, it's not like I'm saying, "Today is going to be the BEST. DAY. EVER." because I have no idea if that's true or not, and every time I say that, The Universe comes and takes a big dump all over my life so I am DEFINITELY NOT SAYING TODAY IS GOING TO BE THE BEST DAY EVER, UNIVERSE, OK? LEAVE ME ALONE, PLEASE.

Ahem. Last night, I made Joe take time out of working, even though his deadline is on Monday, because someone was coming to buy my old computer desk. I sold it on Craigslist, and the guy buying it seemed normal, but you can never really tell and I thought if my 6'5 boyfriend was there, the guy would be less likely to bash me over the head, kidnap me, and sell me to pirates. It all went very smoothly, which was good because I was supposed to be at my parents', partly so they could show me how to give the dog her 800 pills and ear medication while they were on vacation, but mostly so they could feed me dinner. Joe tried to be all, "I could go over with you," and so I had to be all, "NO! You have a deadline! WHAT ARE YOU THINKING?" and he was all, "But what if there's Guitar Hero?" and I was all, "My parents are not going to want to play Guitar Hero -- they hate it because they suck at it," and he was all, "But --" and I was all, "Procrastinator! Stop it!" Seriously, you guys, he is worse at procrastinating than I am and THAT IS REALLY BAD.

I know that sounds mean, but I'm really way meaner. For instance, on Wednesday, Joe came over and made me dinner. He even said he'd clean up EVEN THOUGH he'd cooked everything while I sat on the sofa surfing the Internets. I stood in the kitchen with him while he cleaned and everything was fine until he started loading the dishwasher. I stood there, watching, as long as I could and then I had to put my hands on the side of my head to keep it from exploding BECAUSE HE WAS DOING IT WRONG. I had to make him stop so I could do it. And then I took out all the dishes he'd put in there and loaded them CORRECTLY. So, yes, he came over, brought all the food, COOKED all the food, and offered to clean everything up and, in return, I berated him for not loading the dishwasher the right way. Say it with me, everyone: CONTROL. FREAK.

Anyway, so I sent Joe home to work and then I went to my parents' house. When I got there, my dad had his work laptop out so I started making fun of him for working on his vacation AND THEN my mom told me that, no, he wasn't working, he was signing up for Facebook. My mom, sister, and I all helped him in this endeavor and now we've created a monster. He sent friend requests to a bunch of people and went to work updating his profile until it was time for dinner. We had pizza (and wine), on TV trays so we could still watch Ellen (that's right), and every time my dad's computer dinged, signaling a new email, he'd quickly look down to see what Facebook was sending him.

"SIGH," said my mom. "What now?"

"I don't know," my dad answered. "Oh, someone just wrote on my wallpaper."