I lied.
I didn't blog yesterday.
I woke late, I hosed down the front porch and sidewalk. I gritted my teeth at the teenagers yodeling the phrase, "CAR WASH!"
to passing motorists from the church across the street. I cleaned the
bathroom and washed out the window wells. I took a walk with the
husband. I fried chicken for dinner, and I spent most of the evening
rereading some Clancy novels and placing timelines and following the
development of certain characters across the books. (The best part
about having read all of Clancy's novels is that when you reread them,
you can pick and choose what you read. Executive Orders is
particularly fun on a reread: you can skip all the gooey Ebola-creating
business and get to the part where Jack Ryan pukes in the Oval Office's
bathroom because he's having a crisis of conscience over closing down
all interstate travel to prevent further spread of said virus.) Anyway,
I shouldn't make promises that I'm not going to keep, and furthermore
have absolutely no crisis of conscience over not keeping. It makes me
sound disingenous. Not like I care all that much, but hell, I suppose I
should. I'm responsible that way, she says with a nonchalant shrug of
her shoulders.
Don't expect anything further from me today. It's nice here. I've got
other things to do. Like sit on the lawn and take a nap. I need a
break. This seven days a week blogging is all well and good, but there
are times when the gray matter needs a rest and this, apparently, is
one of them.
Ciao bella and enjoy your Sunday.