Usually on a Saturday, Eleanor slouches out of bed late, occupies the computer chair and doesn't move from it until bedtime.

Today we woke to find she'd cleaned her bedroom, had breakfast, and, since it snowed, she offered to shovel the drive.

She just came back in and went up to change as she was hot and sweaty. Then came down to say she'd noticed the laundry basket was full, should she start off a load.

At this point I screamed, 'David! Alien possession alert!'

As I type this, she came in to say Mac had thrown up a hairball. I said I'd deal with it and she said, no, she'd take care of it.

Lauren is clinging to me and whimpering with fear.
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