The wasps: Gone.
My leg: Back to its normal color.
The mice: Depleted, but still kicking. Luckily, I'm kicking harder.
Me: Pathetically grateful for all the encouraging comments yesterday. Thank you more than you know.
The house: Cold. I refuse to turn on the heat until it's weatherproofed.
The weatherproofing: Coming along. The storm door will be hung soon, I bought thermal drapes for my kitchen sliding glass door and have acquired a blow dryer to put up the saran wrap.
The boys: Snugly wrapped in brand new fuzzy, fleecy blankets that had them all purring with happiness. Even the teenager.
The Target card: Smoking.
The apples: Two big batches of them dried and a crockpot full of apple butter ready to go in the freezer in small containers. A world class apple crisp down our gullets. And a whole lot of caramel apples for snacks. Now we're down to thirty pounds still sitting on the kitchen table.
The past couple of days: Lovely. Absolutely lovely. Well, except for the wasps.
The next couple of days: A mixed bag. My mom will leave for the lake on Thursday. We're planning a comfort food dinner tomorrow night in front of the fireplace while we watch the last debate and throw gnochi at the television. And then on Friday, I embark on one of the stupidest, most asinine things I've done lately. And that's saying a lot. Five twelve hour days - in a row - that I actually requested. I think the mice have truly sent me over the edge. I've never worked more than three twelves in a row. This could be fascinating.
My blog posts this weekend: Incoherent. Nonsensical. And possibly quite amusing. In a really not good way.
The good people of my community: Really want to avoid the ED this weekend. Trust me on this. Go somewhere safe. Like skydiving.
My mother: Sound asleep right next to me.
Me: About to join her. It's barely nine o'clock and I can't keep my eyes open.
Good thing I have a fuzzy, fleecy blanket all my own.