If it involves chocolate, I celebrate it.

You know, that really is something I should never say on the Internet.

Physically this would average once a month. Mentally this averages twenty times a day. A physical trip is usually for visiting family. A mental trip is usually for visiting friends in books and scenes in movies. The mental trips are certainly easier and require no gasoline or any other sort of substance–in case you were thinking that! Those mental trips get a bad rep since they are usually labeled daydreams. What's so wrong with daydreams? Daydreams can distract you from present tasks at hand. True. But without continued use and exercise of your imagination, you may have a harder time solving some of those daytime puzzles. And it helps put some meaning and some stories into everyday things like when you're walking through the park and start to wonder what that squirrel is truly thinking when dashing away from you up a tree. Are they really that timid or is it just an act? They're not so timid when you have a bag of M&Ms. They can't smell fear, but they can smell candy shells. It reminds them of their acorns that they store in the treetops. They're not for eating which is why they dash up so quickly. They want to get to the acorn pile and bomb-drop it on your head before you get away. Squirrels have an inferiority complex, especially the non-flying ones.

I have seen way too many sci-fi shows and movies about time travel to know that I should not play this kind of game. If Star Trek and Back to the Future have taught me anything it's that if you change one thing in your past it could have disastrous consequences on the life and the world as you know it. Captain Picard did this once and ended up as some science officer. Marty McFly nearly made out with his mother–wait he DID! If I change something, like avoiding that 2nd grade bike wreck and knowing right away what I should major in in college, then I could end up in Scandinavia with no friends but a squash. So, no thank you.

I have cold cereal down pat. I know the perfect milk-to-flakes ratio for Fruity Pebbles.

We bought it from the mother of a man who, while taking residence there, killed his wife and was a fugitive for a while. At the time of the purchase, the house was in a little disarray with some strange conditions: all the medicine cabinets were smashed, a BB gun target was completely worn through on the basement wall, and some pot was growing in the backyard at the edge of the woods where beer bottles shards lay smashed in the grass. I was too young to realize these situations and only focused on the awesome rec room on the bottom floor which had a fireplace. And we never had to call the Ghostbusters.