Highlights of my weekend:
Had a migraine on Saturday afternoon. Enough said.
Pulled a cat turd off Fletcher's butt that was stuck in his fur. DON'T LIKE READING ABOUT IT? IMAGINE HAVING TO PULL IT OFF!
Made beef stroganoff for the college boy. Seemingly used every pot, pan and utensil in the kitchen, then had to wash them all, dozens and dozens of them. DOZENS, I tell you.
Also seems I have a bit of a habit of using the wrong size pot, pan, bowl, etc. And by wrong sized, I don't mean too big. I may underestimate volumes just a wee little bit. Might account for the dozens and dozens of dirty dishes I had to wash.
Baby Ruby has been given run of the house during the day, and she immediately put the big boys' catfood on her radar, which is not agreeing with her kitten tummy. Some not-very-pretty things ensued.
Why won't Sarah Palin just go away?
As I vacuumed the rugs in my room, the vacuum cleaner started smelling like it was about to burst into flame, so I had to turn it off, unplug it, and perform exploratory surgery. Diagnosis was what appeared to be about five pounds of long hair wrapped around both the beater bar and the motor pulley (that's the roller brushy thingy and the little posty thingy that the drive belt loops around, for those of you who don't want to Google it).
Killed 137 wasps in the living room. Or maybe it was more like 5, but it SEEMS like more when you're chasing one around with the fly swatter, trying to smack it before the kitten climbs the curtains to get it. Did I mention I had a migraine?
Went to Aldi to get groceries (along with about half of the town - why did I wait until Saturday afternoon to get groceries?) and their debit card machine wasn't working, which meant I was able to buy $17 worth of groceries, because that's all the cash I had, and thus limiting me to essentials necessary for beef stroganoff: noodles, broth, sour cream, mushrooms, roasted red pepper hummus (that last one might have been just a little something for the chef...). And before you ask, I already had beef in the freezer.
There is civil unrest in my house over the naming of Ruby. I say the one who scoops the litter box, feeds and waters them, cleans up the kitty barf, and PICKS POOP OFF THE KITTY BUTTS gets the final say in the naming of the cat. End of story.
Sorry to see the weekend over so soon? Not. Me. Bring on Monday.