I am bad at weekends. Or, I am good at weekends and therefore bad at writing during them. Yesterday, I cleaned the kitchen, mowed the side yard, took the dogs on a long walk, went to friends’ for burgers and a movie, came home and helped Charles clean off the dining room table in anticipation of friends coming over today.
This morning, I started another load of dishes and vacuumed. Now, I’ve got two napping doggies relaxing on the bed before the excitement of visitors and being in the living room (with its lovely giant window) for the entire afternoon.