10:35 a.m.
Sunday started super early when the smoke alarm in my bedroom began its intermittent ‘my battery is dying’ chirp. It was 4:45 in the morning. How come those things never chirp at like two in the afternoon? I hopped out of bed and set to looking for the 9-volt batteries. I knew I bought a bunch of them the last time one of those fuckers started chirping at ridiculous o’clock in the morning. It must have been awhile ago, because I popped the last one in that chirper and promptly collapsed back in bed, but not before adding 9-volt battery to my shopping list.

I was kind of frantic to get the thing to stop chirping lest it wake up one of the two Tibbles asleep in the guest room. Nolan was off camping with the boy scouts, while Sister #3 was ferrying Sister #2 and Ben to the TC-10 mile at about the same time I was changing that battery.

8:23 p.m.
I think I left off there in mid-thought because right about then The Tibbles decided we should have a mid-morning record-listening party and I was totally down with that. We listened to The ‘Mats, Heart, and Doolittle. Of course we always listen to those three, because I only have like five records (we never seem to listen to Liz Phair or Matthew Sweet).

Long about 11:30 Sister #3 came to collect her children, which left me to eat some lunch and watch “The Brady Bunch” (the one where Bobby kisses Mary Ingalls and the one where they lose the sketches at some amusement park).

I was exhausted, truth be told. My Tibble muscles have grown slack and out of shape since, well, last month. The sheer number of words that come pouring out of their mouths is enough to tire me out. So many questions and insights. I think I talked more in the sixteen hours they were here than I did all last week. So yeah, after downing some homemade creamy (god, I hate that word. I think I hate creamy more than moist. Creamy. Ugh.) chicken wild rice soup and reading some in The Winter of the Robots (which comes out Tuesday and you should get for all the kids in your life), I took the best nap ever. A nap so good that other naps make fun of its restfulness just to make themselves feel better. Oh glorious nap, I enjoyed you immensely.

Nap fulfilled, I wrapped up my niece Jaycie’s birthday gift. We celebrated her 16th birthday at Family Dinner (Pizza Luce & Heath cake). Yes, my adorable little niece is a Homecoming-formal-with-a-boy, driver’s-license-test-failing sixteen-year-old. I’m a little stunned by this development too.

So anyway, Sisters #3 & #4 went in on a fancy-pants record player. You can tell by this super blurry picture that she was quite literally moved beyond words.

She then spent the next twenty minutes taking pictures of it and texting it to all her friends. We then inaugurated it by listening to Maxwell’s copy of Pearl Jam’s “Ten,” followed by The Decemberists, whichever one has June Hymn & Down by the River on it. There was another pink record featuring one of the bands that say “Hey” in the middle of the song. I can’t remember which one.

We also spent a lot of time discussing our funeral arrangement wishlists. Sister #3 is still processing the funeral arrangements she had to help out with at work last week. A woman had to bury her husband and son (a murder/suicide caused by domestic violence), and now Sister #3 is all up in the death business and nagging my parents to make some decisions.

It seems we’re a very pro-cremation family.

Good times.

The “It’s (Insert Day of Week) and I’m Boring” is a series that Christa and I do to pay homage to the beauty of old-school blogging. (I totally copied this nice explanation from Christa).