This is Alexis in the flesh again. I'm growing more proficient at one-handed typing with each new post. I've so little else to do these days that the Surgeon General or Prime Minister or Secretariat of the Internet will probably soon contact me for the purpose of informing me that I'm exceeding my blogging allowance. Until I hear from this official, however, I'll continue tying up bandwidth or whatever it is I'm hogging, because, as I already stated, I have nothing else to do.
Last night my babysitters were, in chronological sequence, my uncle Michael (who's a really cool guy even though he looks just like my dad AND he's a practicing Mormon, which lends credence to the idea that one cannot judge a book either by its cover or its religion unless it's the actual Book of Mormon), PseudoAunt and PseudoUncle, my uncle Jerry, and my uncle Steve, who is still here with me. One of my parents will show up fairly soon to give dear, sweet Uncle Steve his freedom. That probably came across as sarcastic, which was not my intent. Uncle Steve actually manages to be both dear and sweet on most days.
Uncle Steve has been observing as I've been typing. We had a brief and civil disagreement about capitalization, ending in Uncle Steve's admission that I am correct as usual. In the highly unlikely event that you were curious as to the precise nature of our civil disagreement, Uncle Steve suggested that I should have capitalized uncle preceding the names Michael, Jerry, and Steve earlier in this paragraph. I explained to him that in those instances, I wasn't referring to my uncles as "Uncle Michael," "Uncle Jerry," and "Uncle Steve," but was, instead, explaining to the reader that they were my uncles and, additionally, providing their first names to the reader for the purpose of additional clarity. Further into the paragraph, I actually referred to two of them as "Uncle Michael" and "Uncle Steve." Regardless, in the former instance, uncle functioned as a common noun, while in the latter instances, uncle functioned as a title in an actual name, which changed its designation to that of a proper noun. Dear reader or readers, is there anything I could possibly write that could heighten your boredom beyond its present level? I didn't think so.
Right now Dog, the Bounty Hunter is on. Uncle Steve has a particularly hard time relating to the Chapmans. He says that, all things considered, he'd probably rather watch an episode of House. Uncle Steve is a physician, and doctors almost universally despise televised medical dramas. Thus, my uncle's distaste for Dog, the Bounty Hunter extends beyond garden-variety dislike. This is entirely irrelevant, as the patient rather than the babysitter or the doctor (Uncle Steve is both to me) chooses what program to watch. Uncle Steve disagrees. He says the person in possession of the remote control is the one who chooses what program to watch. To prove his point, he has stolen the remote control and changed the channel to CNN. We're all suitably impressed, Steve. You've just demonstrated that you can physically overpower an approximately eighty-five pound girl with multiple fractures who underwent kidney surgery yesterday, which practically guarantees you a slot in this year's "World's Strongest Man" competition, or possibly even the Mr. Universe contest. Did you have to resort to taking steroids to accomplish this most amazing feat?
The surgeon who operated on me has come to examine my war wound. I must now devote my attention to him, but I will be back.
Becca, I'm being treated well, but even so, I probably will need to vent soon.