I’m not sure how it happened but I’ve kinda been cyber-stalking Ashton Kutcher and Demi Moore.

I follow them on Twitter @aplusk and @mrskutcher. They post a lot of tweets and even though they’re only 140 characters long, I’ve noticed that they are often very positive and have an enlightening spiritual vibe.

They seem like they’re really nice people. Ashton is from Iowa, and I think Iowans are very nice, but Demi, who is not an Iowan, comes across as a very nice person as well.

I’ve never sent them a tweet, of course, because I’m not crazy. And I’m certainly not going to send Ashton a tweet to tell him about my completed screenplay that stars him in a role that will most likely earn him his first Best Actor Oscar (but that’s mostly because the screenplay is only complete in my head and loses validity when you can’t see the words in my head converted into scenes on paper. That you can, you know, read and stuff. Details).

I was telling Dave the other night that I was really impressed with how kind and gracious Ashton and Demi are.

Mr. Cynical said, “It’s probably easy to be kind and gracious when you’re a rich celebrity.”

“That’s true Mr. Glass-half-empty, but I still think it’s nice to see celebrities acting truly grateful and not like assholes, “I replied.

Demi and Ashton, and their positive, grateful, and uplifting tweets, have inspired me to reflect upon some of the things I am truly grateful for this week.

1. The offspring have been on spring break all week. Even though we decided to “vacation at home” this year, we’ve had a wonderful time. Dave was home on Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday so we were able to enjoy some great time together as a family.

2. We had two days this week that were in the 70’s. Is this Heaven? No, it’s Iowa.

3. Dave is still employed and even received his annual bonus. The fact that it was half of what he received last year doesn’t matter because he still has a job and a bonus is a bonus.

4. Most of Dave’s bonus was allocated to the achievement of pre-determined financial goals. Even in this economy, we were able to meet two of the three goals and that makes us very happy.

5. The remainder of the bonus was split between house stuff (new lawnmower and grill), the offspring, Dave, and I.

6. The offspring received Rock Band 2. This should really be considered a gift to all of us because the whole family has been playing it this week. I am especially skilled on guitar. I’m like the housewife version of Eddie Van Halen.

7. Dave has a little jingle in his pocket to spend on whatever he wants.

8. A certain suburban housewife also has a little jingle in her pocket so she marched her butt to the mall to buy a Dooney and Bourke medium chiara bag in black leather! Yay!!!

9. A certain suburban housewife DID NOT break down and cry when she discovered that the purse is no longer available at Dillard’s or Younkers.

10. A certain suburban housewife has decided that a designer handbag will take up a substantial chunk of her fun money and is going to buy an inexpensive, brightly colored spring purse instead (and maybe price Botox or Juvederm).

I’m also grateful that I can get back to my usual routine on Monday after I put the offspring on the bus and send Dave out the door with a kiss.

I’ll sit down in front of the computer. Maybe I’ll work on getting that screenplay down on paper.

Then I really will send a tweet to Ashton. We have some business to attend to.

The other day, the offspring and I went to the library. I came home with seven books, three of which I’d already read. Dave doesn’t understand why I do this.

Sometimes I like a book so much I want to read it again, especially if it’s been a while. And I’m trying not to buy so many books, even though going to Barnes and Noble, and purchasing a few new releases is one of my favorite things to do. However, the library is a lot kinder to our budget and there are plenty of good books for me to choose from.

One of the books I came home with was The House Next Door by Anne Rivers Siddons. I read this book for the first time in 1978, when I was eleven years old. I don’t know which parent bought it for me and I’m amazed they let me read it. However, my dad also gave me Stephen King’s The Stand and The Shining for Christmas that same year so they either thought I was not an easily spooked child or had absolutely no clue about the content of any of the books they bought for me.

The House Next Door is a horror novel. All of Anne Rivers Siddon’s other books are literary fiction but for some reason she took one foray into the horror genre.

The book is about Walter and Colquitt Kennedy. They are childless, by choice, and live in a beautiful home next door to an empty lot. A young couple has purchased the lot and hired an up and coming architect to design their dream home.

The Kennedy’s become good friends with the architect and each of the home’s subsequent owners.

Something tragic happens to everyone that lives there. The house has a way of bringing out the worst in all of them and the evil gets more prevalent with each new owner. Walter and Colquitt become entangled in the lives of their neighbors, whether they want to or not.

The book is not overtly terrifying. The creepiness is subtle and builds slowly and you are able to understand how Walter and Colquitt are ultimately forced to acknowledge that an evil supernatural presence is the only way to explain what happens to everyone who moves into the house next door, especially when the “house” starts killing pets and homeowners.

I finished re-reading the book Monday night and for some reason, had a lot of trouble sleeping. I kept waking up and thinking about the book.

I woke up again because Lauren came into our bedroom complaining of a headache and sore throat. I asked her if she wanted Motrin and she said she did so I walked downstairs in the dark to the kitchen (I’d keep the Tylenol and Motrin upstairs but ever since Chloe ate the Tylenol on Lauren’s night stand, and had to have her stomach pumped, I keep it in the cupboard in the kitchen).

I felt uneasy walking downstairs in the dark. I hurriedly flipped on the kitchen light and glanced up at the microwave to see what time it was.

Imagine how I felt when I saw that the time on the microwave was 3:15 (or, as I like to refer to it, Amityville Horror time!). I grabbed the Motrin and pretty much ran back upstairs, leaving the kitchen light on. I’m sure if I had looked out the sliding glass doors I’d have seen the glowing red eyes of Jody, the demonic pig.

In case you’re thinking I’m a colossal scaredy-cat, let me explain.

I have a habit of waking up at scary times. A couple years ago Dave and I rented The Exorcism of Emily Rose one Saturday night (ironically enough we had taken the offspring to Saturday night services at church and picked up the DVD on our way home). I was reluctant to watch it, because I don’t like scary movies, but it was billed as a courtroom drama based on a true story and Laura Linney was starring in it.

It pretty much scared the holy crap out of me. It’s about a girl named Emily Rose who is possessed by the devil and the priest who tries to perform an exorcism on her is charged with criminal negligence after her death.
Laura Linney plays the lawyer who is hired to defend the priest. The story is then told in flashbacks as Emily Rose begins, and ends, her struggles against the demons that possess her.

Laura Linney is warned that, by taking on the case, she will be targeted by demons for exposing them. She begins to experience strange occurrences at 3:00 AM, just as Emily Rose had. The priest explains that 3:00 AM is the witching hour that evil spirits use to mock the Holy Trinity. It’s the opposite of 3:00 PM, which is traditionally known as the hour Jesus died.

For almost two weeks I woke up at 3:00 AM. It freaked me out and I told Dave I wondered if it was possible to somehow set your mental alarm clock to wake you up at a time guaranteed to mess with your head. And every single time Matthew or Lauren woke up sick in the middle of the night it was straight up 3:00 AM on my bedside clock radio.

The other night Chloe’s barking woke me up in the middle of the night. She paced back and forth by the sliding glass doors in the kitchen and the only reason I was able to open them and look outside was because I didn’t look at the microwave to see if it was Amityville Horror or Emily Rose o‘clock. And I guarantee you it would have been one of those times.

So basically I can read scary books and watch scary movies but only if I’m okay with waking up at scary times.

Has this ever happened to anyone else? Wouldn’t this be a great time for everyone to share his or her story on my blog?

Please tell me the name of the scariest movie you’ve ever seen or the scariest book you’ve ever read. Or just tell me about a time you had the crap scared out of you. It’ll be fun, really. You can leave your comments anonymously if you want.

I promise to read the scary book suggestions but I’m not watching any more scary movies.

And I need to find a way to store the Tylenol and Motrin upstairs.

You know how I was saying that the vase I bought at Pier 1 was going to require moving all the home accessories on my main floor around?

I wasn’t kidding.

Our house is in shambles right now. Everything that used to be on a shelf or table in the family room is now piled up in the dining room. I think Dave is getting a little tired of me asking him if he likes “that candle over there” and does he think that vase “should be up a little higher.” I bet my spending all day on the computer is starting to sound pretty good compared to my spending all day on the computer AND tearing the house apart and not putting anything back.

I went to Pier 1 again today, sans husband and the offspring, ready to knock this mother of a decorating project out.

I got there right at 10:00 which, according to the sign on the door, is when they’re supposed to open. The doors were still locked so I kept peering through the windows like a crazy person. At around 10:05 I gave the doors a little rattle because I’m thinking, maybe if they can’t see me they’ll hear me. Finally, someone opens the door, apologizing for not opening it sooner. I’m all “oh it’s no problem” but what I’m really thinking is get out of my way because all the inventory I’ve been looking at through the window is starting to resemble home decor crack and I must get me some RIGHT NOW!

First I tried to locate a huge vase that Dave and I had seen on Sunday. We have a two story entryway and there’s a big shelf high off the ground that would be perfect for an oversized piece of pottery with maybe some of those floral stems sticking out the top. That would be a big improvement over the two inches of dust and one pink fleece lined croc that’s up there now (no one will admit to throwing the shoe).

I thought for sure they had sold the vase I wanted. I couldn’t find it anywhere and since I was the only one in the store, both the manager and another employee were trying to help me find it. They kept showing me things and I kept saying, “I don’t think that’s it.”

Finally I chose a different vase, which wasn’t quite what I wanted, but I thought it would work anyway. Then, the Pier 1 employee and I started trying all kinds of different floral stems and sticks to see what looked best. I didn’t like the little eucalyptus but I did like the big leaves. But then I liked the tall grasses better so we switched everything out several times.

Then, I actually found the vase I was looking for in the first place. The Pier 1 employees switch everything around every forty eight hours and they had different stuff coming out the top and I got confused. So we took all the stems out of the other vase and the manager tried out several for me in the vase I had wanted from the start. She had to climb up a ladder every time we tried something new and I felt bad because she was starting to sweat.

Using my camera phone, I sent Dave several pictures of the vase with the stems sticking out the top and also a piece of wall art that I liked to his Blackberry, NONE of which he received, thus proving I really don’t know how to use any of the electronic devices in my possession. I’ll never own a Blackberry of my own because frankly, I’m afraid the learning curve would be too difficult for me. Think how much better this blog would look if I mastered HTML and wasn’t afraid to install widgets.

Next I pulled out a bunch of really tall stick things to put in ANOTHER vase I already own that’s in the corner of my dining room. I turned to the side while holding the sticks and wham, knocked a reed diffuser full of scented oil onto the floor. The glass didn’t shatter but it made a big freaking mess.

Seriously, I have no idea when I became such a messy, clumsy, PITA shopper. I must have said “please” and “thank you” and now “I’m sorry” about fifteen times. I thought, “if I damage anything else during this visit, I’m just going to leave.” This is not the first time I’ve broken something in Pier 1 either. I once reduced a pyramid of plastic wine glasses to smithereens. You’d think they’d be kind of unbreakable since they’re plastic but they’re not.

I finally found everything I was looking for and went up to the cash register to pay. Meanwhile, a couple more customers came up to the counter and were waiting patiently to pay for their items. The employee helping me told them someone would be with them in a minute and I’m thinking, no they won’t, because they’re busy cleaning up the path of destruction I just left in the home fragrance area.

Finally I left. The really nice, and totally forgiving staff at Pier 1 helped me load my giant vase into my car, thanked me, and sent me on my way. I’m so going to have to go to the other Pier 1 on the south side for a while.

I got everything unloaded from the car by myself but I can’t put the big vase up on the high shelf without some help. It’s going to require the really tall ladder that Dave used when he painted our last house. Plus, I never like to attempt anything that might require a 911 call when I’m home alone because if I knock myself unconscious during the fall someone needs to be able to call an ambulance.

I wonder how Dave will feel about helping with the vase relocation project BEFORE dinner. It would probably be better if I wait until he’s taken off his coat and I’ve plied him with the fajitas I’m making tonight.

But after that, I’m gonna need some help from handyman Dave.