I had such high hopes for today. Hopes to get the kitchen cleaned. Instead I walked with Porter, Skully, and Maggie for over 3 miles, went to the bank, dropped off Porter, went to Hobby Lobby to buy a birthday gift for DIL2, picked up a book at the library, stopped at Walgreens for a gift card and some new earbuds, dropped off an empty SCUBA tank at Van's Fire & Safety for a hydro test, went to Kennedy school to vote in the recall election primary, ducked into U-Bake for frozen dinner roll dough balls, came home for a quick lunch, went to the dentist, drove back across town to potty Porter, came back to wrap DIL2's gift & write the card, then to FedEx Kinkos to ship it off. *pant, pant* Damn Tuesdays, they're always chock full of errands and things-to-do and I don't get everything done and then I get frustrated. Right now I'm eating a bowl of pretzels. Crunchy and salty snacks are good frustration eating. I count out 18 and that's 3 WW Points Plus points. Cheap satisfaction. I plan to tackle the pile o'crap that lives on the end of the counter after supper, and maybe I'll clear off and clean the shelf with the canisters, etc. that's over the dishwasher. I'll still have Friday to get the joint cleaned to "having company" standard. Hey, that pound that returned when I went back to "regular" eating? It left again. Yahoo. Last night we were sitting at the kitchen table watching Dancing With The Stars (Donald Driver's on there and he's a Packer, ya know) when I saw this tiny brown streak zoom across the patio. I watched and it came back. It was Flash, the baby bunny. A couple years ago there were two baby bunnies, one that zoomed around and one that hopped a bit then sat staring around no matter what was going on, so I called them Flash and Bobo. I decided that those are good names for all baby bunnies. I haven't seen a Bobo yet this year but I did manage to snap a photo of Flash looking all cute. I think they're cute until I catch them eating my ferns, that is. I noticed this morning that the leaf lettuce I planted last week has sprouted. I'd take its picture but the little green dots are so small they don't show up as different from the white things in the potting soil. Trust me, they're there. I'll be getting out the chicken wire fencing to protect my salad by the weekend.
May 8--John and Hugh Finlay, Side Chair. The music played. Three children circled two painted chairs, concentration making them frown.
And that's all there was last night. I got that one thought down on paper, then I woke up an hour later to take off my glasses, put my notebook and pencil on the nightstand, and turn out the light. I promise I'll do better tonight. Cross my heart.