7:39 pm and I’m still alive

This weekend I cleaned. Major house cleaning. Even moved a couple of pieces of furniture.

But wait. There’s more. I sewed — made a new COVID mask from this lovely greeny-blue/purple fabric. Think of all of the most vivid bruise colors you’ve ever seen. Add an asymmetrical pattern of small gold circles. It’s weird and awesome and my new Mardi Gras mask for Tuesday.

And I made a king cake. It’s cooling now. I’ll make the icing before bed.

And I roasted thinly sliced new potatoes. I have a roast in the slow cooker.

And I did my usual Sunday laundry.

I was nearly asleep by 6 pm. Seriously. I slapped myself (metaphorically this time) enough to order pizza delivery. I’m really glad I did, too. It was one of those perfect times where everything (like I’m going to get delivery and not add boneless wings and cheesestix) was perfect temp, like they pulled things from the oven, sliced, boxed, and teleported it all to my house all in under two minutes.

All in all it would be the best day if my furnace weren’t trying to kill me.

p.s. I just used “all” four times in the last two sentences. Is that weird? It seems weird.