Back at my first BlogHer conference in 2009, an afternoon of margaritas with friends turned into Melisa pulling a clown nose from her purse. and this happened.

photo courtesy of the lovely PiperofLove

Since then it’s become a tradition for me to don a clown nose each year. Though my face is a little chubbier, my wrinkles a lot deeper and my dark circles…well…darker, the clown nose is a consistent feature in my annual photos.

So I probably shouldn’t have been surprised when my son dressed up as a clown for Halloween and my daughter took his picture only to have her phone ask this question.

At next year’s conference, I’m wearing these pants.

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And so it begins. It’s time for NaBloPoMo!

Half of you are, “Say what? Why is she posting gibberish while on Ambien?” and the other half may recall my past attempts at National Blog Posting Month (or NaBloPoMo, for short) in 2011 and 2012, both of which I failed. I am nothing if not a quitter.

So here I go again. Imma do this thing for once.

Just don’t hold me to it.

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My son has suddenly decided that he wants to draw pictures all the time. Mostly, he’s been sketching pumpkins, bats, ghosts, and tombstones in preparation for Halloween. Last night he asked for more spooky ideas so I told him to try his hand at a witch.

He didn’t know where to start, so I quickly drew my interpretation. Don’t worry, I won’t quit my day job. After I saw how bad it looked, I asked his dad to give it a try.

Then our son asked us if all witches have penises.

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Shh. Don’t tell anyone, but sometimes I like to be alone. Sure I work alone, but I “talk” on social media all day and when my kids come home from school there is rarely a moment without chatter.

Don’t get me wrong; I love people and socializing, and talking – oh, can I talk – but at the end of the day I like to climb into bed and fold the adjustable mattress into what my husband calls “the taco” and relax. It’s safe and quiet there. There’s nobody asking for help with homework or telling me they’re out of underwear. I can’t even see the dirty dishes!

I know some people frown on having a television in the bedroom, but not me. I have always watched TV in bed, ever since I was little and I’d fall asleep to the Donny and Marie show. When I got older, it was Johnny Carson and when he retired I moved on to Cheers reruns. Lately, I’ve been tuning in to old episodes of Seinfeld. It’s just me, my bed and some good comedy.

See the correlation there? At the end of the day, when I’m trying to wind down and relax, I like to laugh.

The only problem is that since the kids went back to school I’ve started climbing into bed around 10:00 so I can get up earlier. There is nothing funny on at 10:00. There are news programs, reruns of murder mysteries and reality shows that aren’t fit for watching just before you close your eyes. *shudder*

This is why I’m currently addicted to House Hunters on HGTV.

My husband thinks I watch it because I want granite counter-tops, a soaking tub, and a double vanity – and I do, but more than that I enjoy the schadenfreude of watching couples bicker over linoleum and west-facing windows. Sometimes, people don’t buy houses just because of the color of the walls. You know, painting is hard.

Though it isn’t billed as a comedy, I find humor in the expectations of first-time home buyers and the commentary of their frustrated realtors who gently tiptoe around the fact that their clients are nit-picky. Brass fixtures, overhead fans, or GASP, wood paneling? Deal breakers!

Maybe it makes me feel better about the chimney, hot water heater, and furnace we recently had to replace. Maybe it makes me think that our carpet isn’t nearly as gross as it could be. Or maybe it makes me thankful that I no longer work in mortgage lending.

Either way, thank you House Hunters for the laughter and the sweet dreams. And, may I never need to go house hunting again.

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