Yesterday was all about sweat. Literally. I admit. I did… well… stink. I had moved well beyond glisten, probably by ten. In my defense, I had been making like Alice from The Brady Bunch for about twelve hours. I was a human Roomba and wet vac, while running a basement laundry and short order grill on the side. When I break out the crevice tool, I mean business. Run for the hills.

The only thing that kept me going was my iPod and a playlist of rock, hip hop and new country. It’s my cleaning playlist, and it is some serious business.

Mr. G, honey managed to escape chore madness by being at work. What kind of lame excuse is that?

The last load of laundry — for the day — went into the dryer around 8 pm, and I collapsed into a smelly puddle onto the bedroom floor. Golden Pup Gracie pounced on me like the human salt lick I was and proceeded to add Golden slobber to the heady mix that was her pack leader.

The sweetie dragged his eyes from his computer screen and focused on me. “Let me know when you’re ready for that foot rub.”

“Is that the foot rub that comes with a side of chocolate sundae?”

He grinned. “I know my woman.”

By the time I was out of the shower, Mr. G, honey was back from the sundae run. Only, he didn’t have my usual small hot fudge sundae — hold the soft serve vanilla ice cream, because we all know it’s about the hot fudge. He had a DQ Georgia Mud Fudge Blizzard with a longneck spoon. For those of you who have never experienced this sex-in-a-cup blizzard, it is chocolate soft serve ice cream with chunks of chewy baked brownie, cocoa fudge and pecans. It is also a 690 cal, 34 fat gram orgasmic fatfest. There aren’t enough Weight Watchers points in the galaxy for this sucker. This is blizzard non grata.

He said, “I brought you your sundae, but I thought you might like this.”

I looked at the little hot fudge sundae that could. And then my eyes fell on the GMFB that was Dairy Queen and all the blood rushed out of my brain. I snatched it from his hand and said, “You, Mr. G, honey, are a bad man. A very bad man.”

He flashed me a purely sinful grin and said, “Yeah, but I know my woman.”

Note: It’s best not to go online and check the nutritional calculator for this ice cream beast until after you scarf it. I console myself in the knowledge that I replenished 15% of my Vit A, 35% of my calcium, and 25% of my iron for the day. I’m thinking medicinal. I’m also thinking my writer’s butt just got bigger.

By the time the sweetie worked his magic fingers on my feet, I was totally blissed-out.

Good Morning………. Monday.

Elen