so very busy
It may be the last Potter Day, but it doesn't seem to apply to those of us who didn't pick priority shipment. I can't believe I fell into this trap a second time. (My first Freudian slip was "I can't believe I fell into this trap a second tome." Just as appropriate if harder to parse.) My confirmation email says that I have until Tuesday…or maybe Wednesday. Good thing that there is lots of stuff going on to keep me distracted (although last Potter Day in the hospital was pretty damned distracting. God forbid I should be so distracted again.)
Instead of spending all day with Book 7, I:
- woke up late due to last night's activities, about which more elsewhere. Was woken by the doorbell. Blake delivery! I'll take that package.
- got dressed, cleaned up the kitchen, packed up Blake and our discards, went to the Goodwill.
- took Blake home & gave him his lunch. Chicken nuggets. He didn't eat any.
- packed him in the car again with our empty beer bottles and went to the liquor store. While waiting in the recycling line, Blake fell asleep on my shoulder. I pocket my dollar and change with my other hand and carry him out to the car. We make one more quick stop to pick up Diet Coke, as my dad is building a toolshed today and he runs on the stuff, then went home.
- Blake woke up the minute his head touched his pillow.
- packed him into the car a third time and took him to buy sewing notions and hardware odds & ends. This turned into a 2-hour odyssey involving mall rides, a photo booth, the bike aisle at Canadian Tire and several spools of green thread.
- took him home and started supper, pausing from time to time to pull him out of the backyard (due to the toolshed and fence construction, Blake is not allowed in the backyard during the best part of summer. And I'm the one who gets to lock him in the house with me! Do you wonder why I was packing him in the car so very often?). Did the dishes while the casserole baked.
- ate supper, cleaned the kitchen, started writing this entry, played with Blake, cleaned out my purse.
Oh, yeah. I have lots to do. Plus, I'm on the fourth book of A Tree Grows in Brooklyn, which may be surrounded with less hype (being published in 1943) but is no less compelling. No, really.
Entry concluded in my oft-neglected knit journal
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Don't make me send out the Blake. He doesn't listen to *anyone.*