All day I thought it was Sunday. No foot traffic, save for the fish-fry attendees, and even they were sparse in number... typical Sunday stuff. All day I had just the one thought in my mind- that after performing my laundry jockey duties, I would be free to flop on the bed/sofa/floor and die a slow and agonizing death from the whatever it was we were exposed to at the library on Monday. Oh sure, it did cross my mind I should take Herr Becher and Eli in to the doc's office, but, true to form, the illness hits peak performance over a weekend/holiday. Just peachy.
So, where does this leave me? Saturday has been a lost day, stolen by inactivity and boredom... and a hella-wracking cough. I did get a good many fat quarters cut, folded, and tied for the festival, and had the sudden realization that I'll be hitting up That Crocker Woman for some of her fancy graphics fixins' for the sock kits. The ones still awaiting a finished proto-type. I brought my work home from the office, like all good 'business owners' are supposed to, so tomorrow, in between fits of bronchial spasms, perhaps I'll get the sock done. Tomorrow is also my first Sunday being 'closed'... I don't know if I'll really be able to stay away, but the total waste of gas to go in and listen to the crickets chirping does make a strong argument.
By the time many of you read this it will indeed be Sunday, or possibly Tuesday, if you live chained to a desk. No offence meant...at least you get a paycheck, eh? Going to take the tiniest Becher off to bed. One handed typing makes him exhausted.
p.s. picasa ate my last photo download, or is perhaps just disinclined to let me at them, so teensy log-cabin blocks will have to wait a bit. Seems like there's something else in the camera bursting to get out... well, I'll just have to be surprised like the rest of y'all. latah... C