Especially when it dutifully marches into my house and makes my stuff work. I took a nap yesterday afternoon with the CPAP going, and it was good. I paid bills, lots of bills if not all the bills, and registered my car and made a note to renew my driver’s license next month, a whole month early so I won’t have to stand in line. And I sent those bandits at TurboTax my $29.95 and filed my taxes, but I only gave them a “2” on my satisfaction rating, because their system is so inflexible and wouldn’t let me downgrade to free filing. Maybe next year I will be happily married and need the Deluxe model I’m stuck with on their website.
Maybe pigs will fly, but that’s another topic for another day.
I dithered all afternoon about whether I wanted to go to the dance my friends were hosting, over on the far side of BigD. My feet wanted to dance, and my spirit needed to dance, but I just did not want to fix my hair and put on a dress and go to the store to buy more pantyhose, so I texted Brother Sushi to tell him I wasn’t coming after all. He texted back to say that there were 12 people there.
I fried up all the defrosted potatoes O’Brien and my poor thawing salmon steak. I think the turbot is past hope. I am having to pitch one and a quarter packages of sweet potato fries, and that makes me sad. I will be putting a whole lot of mushy stuff into the compost pile, whenever I can walk back there without getting lost in a snowbank.
Had a much better night’s sleep, last night, than the one before. I think a few more naps will get me back into my game. I have a lot of stuff that needs to get done, today, all of it out of the house, and I am not all that inclined to get out of my jammies and do it. I have bags for “Scouting for Food”. Mount Washmore is looming. I need a manicure. I need a haircut. This is our morning to serve in the temple. I need milk and orange juice and eggs. There is a bag of frozen blueberries that needs to be turned into something. At this point, probably a small jar of jam.
[The bandits at TurboTax have informed me that the IRS accepted my return. I would have been a lot happier to hear this news, had their $29.95 fee not effectively predigested a third of my $91.00 refund.]
NintendoMan has been demoted, at least for now, to JustFriend status. There is much family drama, and he needs to focus on that. I am a patient woman; if at any time in the next year he is inclined to resume dating, the latch-string is still out. But in the meantime, I will not be sitting by the phone. My heart, and my dignity, are still intact; there is no need for any of you to offer to Sheriff-of-Nottingham-ize him (i.e., cut out his heart with a dull spoon). He has been both honest and kind, which is why he is not sitting on the curb with the imprint of my Danskos in his rump.
This may be the day that the first Noro sock gets finished. Or not. And I may cast on for the Knitting Olympics 2010. Or not. It is extremely likely that a good chunk of the day will spent on the couch with my book. And I need to figure breakfast out, because it’s 7:30, and my stomach thinks my throat’s been cut.
The street is looking good, out there. Time to take on the day!
- Five years into widowhood, after one year of incredible happiness and nearly 14 years of single blessedness. Have given up perfect manicures and pretty hands in order to resume playing the soprano recorder and to see if I can figure out how to play bluegrass banjo. Singing in the shower. Still really, *really* love to knit!