This was my dad's and stepmother's second wedding anniversary. I stopped by their house after work to give them the gifts I bought for them. I'd picked up some things at a store called "The Wooden Duck" (or some such name), including a really nice photo album with a wooden front cover and back cover. They really liked everything. My stepmother complimented me on my skill at finding the right gifts all the time. I don't know what the big deal is; all I do is pay attention to what they like. (Oh, and she finally got the CDs.)

I couldn't find my watch. I looked all over the house before I left for work without luck. When I came home, I ransacked my living room for over an hour, but still couldn't find it. Just before I went to bed, I found it. In my bedroom, on my dresser. In plain sight. I felt like an ass.