What happened to Day Nineteen, you ask?
That's what I'd like to know. It was a long, productive day. Pilates class, followed by some work on the computer; the running of errands to the jeweler, the travel agency, the furniture store and the nursery; a few hours at the office so I could follow up with the little old man with the Swedish accent; dashing home to mow the lawn in between rain showers; setting out the tarp for today's mulch delivery; snarfing down a quick dinner; and then going out to meet someone from my women's group.
Except that last meeting only lasted twenty minutes. And then I ran into Jeannie and John and Joe. And before I knew it, I was drinking an Irish Car Bomb. If the story were to end badly, I would say "and that's the last thing I remember." Fortunately, the Irish Car Bomb was only preceeded by two Coronas, so I was able to keep my wits about me, and I excused myself and walked home at 11:00.
But still. Long. Full. Day.
And here I am, up and ready to tackle Day Twenty.
I'm going to putter around the yard this morning while I wait for the mulch to be delivered. Having lunch with a former co-worker who is in town for the weekend. This afternoon I would love to be able to take a nap, but I probably won't be able to relax enough for that to happen. Instead, I'll be fussing with my hair and nails in anticipation of tonight's black-tie dinner.
Photos and story some other time.