Eight hours’ worth. As the short, bad guy said in The Princess Bride, “Inconceivable!”
I am finally, finally feeling caught up at work. I worked through 30 old emails yesterday, plus dealing with the new ones that came in throughout the day. My attorney didn’t need me after about 2:00; the attorney for whom I transcribe, didn’t need me; the second one I back up was out of the office, and there was nothing urgent in his mail. So I took off at 3:00 for a rendezvous with NailDude. Two nails had popped, another was on its way out, and the remainder just needed fills.
I went for a pseudo American manicure this time. Layers and layers of translucent pink polish, very subtle, and while I miss my hey-sailor-red nails, I am feeling elegant and ladylike. Anytime I can manage that before breakfast on a grey Saturday morning, I think it is a good thing.
The tater tots are nearly done. I can smell them. It is probably time to head back into the kitchen and whip up a cheese omelette.
That was a couple of hours ago. Breakfast is over, the dishes are washed, and I have nearly finished the novel I am reading. I took it into my head to participate in the online book club, and the discussion is Monday night (if I remember). So last night I put my shoes back on and left the house around 8:30. It took three bookstores before I found a copy, but the 20% I saved offsets the gas I expended to find it. I read until I could not keep my eyes open one moment longer, and then I did my impression of a sensible human being and went to bed.
In knitting news, I’ve put another 3+ rounds on the doll hat I am swatching in the pale green silk tweed blend yarn. It will fit somebody. I’m just not sure which of my dolls, if any, at this point. Possibly Chutzpah. Possibly Faith or Temperance. Possibly somebody else’s doll that is somewhere in between.
The new guy and I are negotiating when to see Rango. MovieMom gave it a terrific rating and said, “This is not a movie for kids. This is a movie for cool, sophisticated, highly discerning teenagers and adults.”
Now to figure out which of those I am.
- Four 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!