At least I have the day of the week right this time..... I think.
I've started a new crochet project. It's a baby blanket for a friend of Sweet Girl's who is due at the end of July. I calculated that if I started tomorrow, I would need to do 5.566666666667 rows every day to get it done on time. Because I'm sort of anal like that.
Because I was so tired after fixing dinner tonight (cheeseburger pie - average at best), I gave myself permission not to wash the dishes. Then I went and washed them anyway. That has nothing to do with being anal.
Two of my cousins planned to go skydiving today (tandem jumps). But they got rained out. I think we have discovered a way to end a drought.
When I got to the reunion this weekend, I had half a tank of gas. Being the mathematical genius that I am, I calculated that I could make it home on the same tank. When I was 39 miles from home, the gauge said I had 31 miles of fuel remaining. I wanted to argue my case, but I decided it was more logical to stop and fill up.
While I was in the pool today, Hubby's nephew's wife called and left a message asking if she and her kids could come over and swim. Last time she did that, she didn't wait for a response, she just came anyway. I fumed and fumed today, and then I decided to take matters into my own hands. But I took the coward's way out. I texted her back and told her "Today's not a good day to come swim. Sorry." I feel a little bad about it (only a little), but they call ALL. THE. TIME. And summer is the ONLY time we ever hear from them.
One of our cats just slithered her way out from under the loveseat. That's apparently where she goes during thunderstorms. I think I can cancel the weather radio app on my iPad and just rely on the cat. I may have spoken too soon. We just had another distant rumble of thunder, and she has retreated to the love seat again. The space she just slithered into is no more than three inches high, I swear.
There was no television in the cottage where we stayed this weekend. I told Hubby he would have pulled his hair out if he had gone. Hubby is bald.
The best part of coming home from being gone all weekend is knowing I don't have to get up tomorrow morning and go to school. I love summer.
I found my old high school chorus teacher on FBook this weekend, and he confirmed my friend request. Would it be rude to ask him where he got all the hair, since he had a combover going on back in 1974-1978, and now he has a full head of hair?
Weird cousins just don't get any less weird, no matter how many years go by.