That pretty much sums up this weekend.
The good — Half of the putting-the-garden-to-bed got done. Oh, and a big, badass pot of chili got made. I’m hoping it will last us through the winter. Cooking, while cathartic and sometimes totally enjoyable, is a repetitive task. One I could do without at the moment. But, it does trump vacuuming and toilets.
The bad — I did not write a single word. Not one. Posting here isn’t part of my word count, nor is Twitter.
The ugly — Golden Barf Pup hurled all weekend — mostly on my bedroom carpet. Replacing the bedroom carpet has moved to the top of my list, just under roof needs doin’. Do you have any idea how much hurl a Golden can hurl? I secretly wished she was a Chihuahua all weekend and, frankly, I don’t like wee dogs all that much. Anything you can put in a Birkin bag is just an accident-waiting-to-happen in my house. I’m beginning to read the signals. Last time, I managed to move her head quick enough that she bull’s-eyed the newspaper TV guide. Elen – 1, TV guide – 0. It’s back to puppy gruel for Golden Pup. Don’t know what Golden Pup ate. All socks and undies accounted for.
The other — I still haven’t made my decision about Sven, as in sweating with for 70 days. The challenge starts today. It’s probably just what I need to pull myself out of the news junkie Election 2008 rabbit hole I’ve fallen into. It’s over, but I’m still scanning the feeds for info. I don’t know if I’m being paranoid or vigilant.
Still. Sven. I remember the mat master well.
Good Morning, Monday.