maurauder

It seems as though, lately, every time I attempt to settle down for a quiet night alone in my living room, with a bottle of wine and snuggled with the hound watching a DVD, I instead end up cornered in my bedroom, chainsmoking and humoring some nutter-boy spouting hubrilous conspiracy theories while I nod emphatically, vacant eyed and daydreaming and muttering "uh-huh".

Why is that?

-M

PS - Hubrilous = full of pride and self importance. I made it up, but it's a good word, no?