I don't feel different. Do I sound different?

I guess marriage only makes you boring if you let it. To be completely honest with myself, I wasn't that exciting before, and now the only difference is that I get to float along in this tedious sea with someone else. It's noon on a Saturday, and I've already eaten the rest of my Mini Wheats, watched two episodes of Lost and trolled the internet for whatever funny videos of post-op face lift patients and Jersey Shore clips I missed during the week. So, you know, the usual.

I've also spent the last few weeks noticing things and making mental notes to blog about them, or at least mention them in conversation or write them in an e-mail (a funny e-mail, one not to be wasted on parents or business). When it comes to Matt, I've noticed that his disdain for dishwashers is far more deep-seated and sincere than was originally thought, almost to the point where I'm beginning to suspect a traumatic childhood run-in with a Maytag. When it comes to life, I've noticed that a singular source of frustration can fester and bubble until sandwiches don't taste good anymore and even e-mailed videos of kittens that wave their arms in surprise aren't as cute anymore, but this only happens if you let it. And when it comes to the bitter, bitter cold of a Midwestern winter, I've learned that Chicago made me smart, at least when it comes to layers (and time management!). Not so long ago, you might've found me wearing Umbros in a blizzard or eschewing hats as merely a decorative way to make your hair look worse than it already does. Now I won't leave the house wearing anything less than everything I own. I have a feeling this also has something to do with me slowly turning into my parents, but that's another story for another day. One that involves Bloody Marys and narcolepsy.

Time to go! More to come.