Hi Darling Ones,
Today I had to check in three different times with three different people as to what day of the week it was. A lot of things happened for a Monday.
- I folded & put away an entire load of laundry that I washed yesterday. Usually it lives in the dryer for at least three days.
- I showered and put on my new Medusa shirt. It makes me feel extra bad ass.
- The project manager of a new gig I’ll be working on next month told me the client said, about my writing, “she really makes you feel something!”
- I got the Wet Leg record and the new Jennifer Egan book in the mail.
- Adam & Jake (BFK’s husband and son) came over to drop off Jake’s car for Maxwell to use this week, since his was stolen from work Saturday.
- Max & Sonya brought gyros over and we chatted for three hours before they took the car. I hadn’t seen them since Christmas and it was nice to catch up with them.
- I cancelled Easter because I don’t feel like Eastering this year. Thankfully, Sister #4 was amenable, especially because the nibs are going to Portland to be with their parents.
- Oh, and I spent a good portion of time obsessing about my broken (again) ice maker. This is the third time it has gone kaput. I’m unclear why this thing hates me so much. I use it every day. I love it so much and yet. I also don’t know why the busted ice maker bothers me so much. I’m obsessed. I’ve watched roughly 83 youtube videos about troubleshooting the ice maker. I’ve already warned Adam that he might have to fix it for me. I texted BFK about it yesterday morning when I woke up to very little ice. Right now I’m in the process of doing what I did last time it broke. I turned it off for three days and then turned it back on and it was reborn. Let’s all pray for an Easter miracle in my refrigerator.
- I had chorizo, black beans, and rice nachos for dinner because my goal is to eat all the leftovers I froze earlier this year. Last night it was chili cheese dogs.
- Now I’m typing this list, playing fetch with Wendell G. Hobbs, and pondering how early I can go to bed, because I’m damn tired.
Not at all icily yours,
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