I'm going to name this cushy recliner "The Island of Manhattan." This evening I traded five cat treats for possession of it. Alfred even moved off of it voluntarily when I shook the jar of treats and advertised my trade offer. I sat in the chair, put my feet all the way up, reclined so far I think my head was lower than the rest of me, and promptly fell asleep. I think I snored a couple times. I woke just now to the Mr turning off all the lights in the room and telling me I should go to bed. I think I'm already there, man.
I was planning on going over to the kids' house to deliver some gingerbread cake I had made, but was waved off when the baby went down for an early nap. She had a rough weekend, having the same 24 hour stomach bug her daddy had last week. She was mostly over it, but still had a slightly elevated temp and lingering tummy issues. I stayed away and let her get some good, healing sleep. They came over here right around sunset instead, to pick up the cake and let grandparents have some cuddle time. It got dark outside, and they looked deflated, like it was their bedtime. My daughter checked her phone and said, it's just 5:30. We all made eye contact in recognition of the same conversation everyone around the country was having today, and no more words were necessary. Time changes are hard. And dumb.
Sometime in the few last weeks, someone driving my car (could be one of four) drove over a broken screw. I had low tire pressure warnings and we kept filling it up, until the Mr finally had a chance to investigate the problem. Yesterday he had enough time to actually address it. I tell you, it is incredibly handy to have a jack-of-all-trades on site. Early on in our marriage, he worked at a busy tire shop in Boulder, and thus knew how to patch the tire once he pulled the screw out. No trip to a repair shop needed. I would never have known how to do that.
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