Super dull Sunday

Oh, the irony.

I totally hit level 4 on the energy scale yesterday. I cleaned house with David. I walked the dog around the block. I hung a shelf in Quinland’s bathroom that I have been meaning to put up for over a dozen years. (It took ten minutes. Why do we do this to ourselves?)

Then I decided to figure out how much of my scrapbook collection I actually need, and how much can just get sold on eBay. This will be a long job, so I told myself I’d start with thirty minutes, and I ended up working on it for an hour.

Then things got fun. We dressed up in our finest hats to go to Franzfest, a celebration I created years ago when my friend Ina was dreading the anniversary of her dad’s death. (He was a gentleman who appreciated fine dining, classy artwork, and jaunty headwear, so we incorporate them whenever possible.) A large group of us had dinner at Gustav’s in his honor, and a good time was had by all.

I’m sure you can guess the punchline: I totally overdid it, and now I’m barely able to get out of bed. (It’s 3:00 pm and the dog just started licking my face as though to revive the body of a stranger he found on the side of the road, so I got up, took my medicine, and gave him some food.)

I’m going to attempt to stay upright and push this day into level 2. There’s a pile of papers on my desk that I need to get to. The dog and I really should take a walk. All that laundry I washed yesterday isn’t going to fold itself. I haven’t been to church yet, but if I can rally, I’ll go to 5:30 Mass with the very few faithful who aren’t watching the Super Bowl.

All I want to do is go right back to bed.

(I saw this at Goodwill but didn’t buy it, because I’m well-stocked already.)

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