I was warned not to do this, but clearly I pay no such attention.

"If you blog about this, I swear to God..."

The Fiance warned me. He did. But silly him. He knows it's exactly this type of situation that makes him perfect blog fodder. And also extremely entertaining and marry-able.

We've officially been in Our Apartment for one week and two days. Seeing as though we've had no television or internet, luxuries he didn't have to live without for seven months like I did, he discovered a new found love for his Playstation 2, which had previously collected dust.

I say Playstation 2, but I mean Tiger Woods PGA Tour 2006, seemingly the only Playstation 2 game he owns. And when I say "discovered a new found love," I mean, "he doesn't leave the couch for hours at a time, and Krista? His fiancee? Who is that? And what? You need me to take out the garbage? Do I live here?"

It's something like that. His focus, it's almost endearing, really.

I think his Tiger Woods PGA Tour 2006-playing reached its pinnacle, however, yesterday morning. I was busy going for a run, making breakfast, cleaning up breakfast, downloading camera software onto the computer, making the bed, generally, you know, functioning as a human on planet Earth, and there he sat, eyes trained on the television set.

Every so often a, "Shit," would escape his lips. Or I'd hear audible cheering emanating from the speakers as his Playstation protege sunk the ball into the hole. A crowd-pleaser. I curled up in the chair with a cup of coffee, not so much watching his game as I was watching him. His hair, unkempt. His sweatpants, leftover from the night before. I was fascinated. Had he really been sitting on the couch this long? I feel even The Cats were concerned.

Who is this man and remember when he used to have legs that carried him from place to place, and now his ass has grown roots and is permanently one with the couch cushion?

Before I knew it, he spoke. He spoke without glancing away from the TV, and without shifting his particular position on the couch.

"I think my elbow is getting chafed," is all he said. His elbow, chafed. From the couch, which he hadn't moved from.

People, his elbow was chafed.

I stared. I was fascinated. Seriously? You chafed your elbow?

"You should probably get off the couch before you get bed sores."