Fun stuff. No, really!

I just finished an English muffin with real butter (lips that touch margarine shall never touch mine) and some of the blackberry jelly that Secondborn made and gave us 3+ years ago. Yes, I've been hoarding it in the fridge all this time, indulging weeks apart.

The house is coming along so nicely. I don't know if we've reached the tipping point, but we are making visible progress at what feels like an increasing rate. Fourthborn carved a path to the window in the middle bedroom after I came home from stake conference. We found the box with my computer peripherals. I skipped the gym this morning in favor of puttering in the living room, preparatory to setting up the computer and regaining home Internet. Most of the kitchen stuff is back in the kitchen. I'm about to head back out there, set the timer for 15 minutes, and see how much more I can accomplish before I have to get ready for work.

Work. Work just got better. I have another half a docket, and I really like her. SemperFi was a little quiet yesterday. He's a good man, quite generous, but doesn't like the need to share his secretary. I'm just grateful that I'll no longer be looking for stuff to do.

I have a new microwave. Nothing fancy. But it's red! The old one had the electronic equivalent of a hissyfit on Sunday night, about ten seconds into a bag of popcorn. Lights strobing, mechanical whimpering, one useless bag of vaguely warm popcorn. Squishy went with me to Wally World last night and did all the schlepping. He also got the blinds down out of the kitchen window so I may finish painting.

He also rolled the trash can to the curb while I schlepped the recycling boxes. Another reason to love Monday nights: trash day is Tuesday, and every other Tuesday the recycling gets picked up. There's just this little sigh of relief as more stuff goes away. Lorelai's trunk is full of donations as well. I'll drop them off either going to work or coming home.

I don't want to get rid of stuff, just to be getting rid of stuff. I want it to go where it is needed, or where it belongs. (I found plaster handprints of the twins from when they were little. The mom in me went Awww! The practical me delegated them to Squishy for delivery to his brothers, along with other stuff.)

We found my book of remembrance on Sunday night. It's about two inches thick. I will be spending time at the library this week, transcribing that information into Ancestry.com. Names. *Dates*. Spouses.

But I have used up that extra puttering time.