Tamales and nothing else, please

So I'm sitting here at 11:47 p.m., eating Devon's tamales, which took about a thousand days to make because he made them from real Aztecs that he slaughtered in 1395, using his time machine made of used Prius parts and paper clips. I'm sitting here eating my tamales and wondering at the awesomeness that is today. No death threats. No bitching. No major health issues blew up in my face, and nobody died. At least, nobody I give a shit about. Walter Cronkite is dead, which is sorta sad, but ol' Walt's been doing the hokey pokey with his own grave for a while, so whatever. I'm sure his family is sad. My brain is full. Found out Michael Jackson died while I was waiting for mom to get out of surgery and the best I could muster was, "Hmmm."

I did laundry. I washed dishes. I played WoW. I crocheted. We saw an apartment. I watched six episodes of "The IT Crowd." Absolutely nothing else happened.

So. Freakin'. Sweet.