You May Congratulate Me

I HATE MACS. This goddamn thing just did it again. I was in the middle of my blog and it ate the whole damn thing. And what's REALLY infuriating is that about halfway through what I was writing, I hit SAVE, for God's sake! And now it's giving me autosave. GROWL.

I don't care. You may still congratulate me, because I have been so extremely virtuous that I have to sit down under the weight of my halo.

I went to the grocery store and bought enough food to last me about two weeks. Then I came home, sat around doing nothing much for a bit (I was waiting for the groceries to be delivered), and then I sprang into action and:

1. Unloaded and reloaded the dishwasher.
2. Unpacked and put away the groceries.
3. Took my two pounds of hamburger and seasoned it and made it into nice patties for the freezer.
4. Took my pack of chicken thighs and made them into freezer packages (two thigh size).
5. Took the nice sirloin I found on sale and made three portions out of that and...freezer, right.

And then I was so excited about how good I was being that I changed the kitty litter.

So now I have tons of food, a cat who please God won't crap on the couch again, and several paragraphs of missing blog.

The only thing I have to do now is sit here in my slightly damp jeans (I spilled water on myself when I was scrubbing the litter box) and wait for the Sunday Times to be delivered to the deli...which of course is why I'm still wearing the damp jeans. Once I get the paper, I will tuck myself into my nice soft old jammies and my beautiful new Christmas bathrobe, pop open the first of my two Saturday night beers, and have a lovely time.

Unless, please God, the phone rings and some gorgeous man invites me out somewhere. At which point the hell with all that damn coziness.

Love, Wendy