I admit it. I am one of those sporadic bloggers. So sue me. At least I don't have any ads, so I don't have to worry about maintaining readers. How good it is to have no ambitions. Anyway. I'm only blogging now because doing anything else will take too much energy. Basically, I've been fighting headaches and backaches and everywhere aches and fevers and chills for three days, and I decided an hour ago to just give up and be sick. Because any morning where it is seventy degrees in your house and you are wearing a jacket and thick socks under a quilt to keep warm, there is no hope for your day. So I'm being lazy. Doing nothing. And rationalizing it by making dinner. Because if your husband comes home to a hot dinner, maybe he won't notice the piles of laundry. Right? I'm afraid my husband might be too smart to fall for that, but I'm going to try it anyway.
So basically, instead of doing all the cool housewifey things I'm supposed to be doing, I alternate between taking pills and reading Anne of Green Gables. Apparently I own the whole set and it's been hiding for the last five years. I won't name names. But one of my many sisters had it stashed on her bookshelf for safekeeping. What a nice sister. And now I'm pretending I'm in junior high again. I love Anne. She makes me want to have red hair. Not bright red, which is good, because my hair would never consent to go that shade. Maybe I'll dye my hair. Then my husband won't know it was me who was lazy all day. Good plan.
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