Working on a Sunday morning (ok, shut it. I know it’s afternoon. I slept until twelve thirty!) should feel icky.  For some reason, I don’t really mind.  Probably because I do all my favorite stuff on Sundays; schedule posts, organize my week, make lists.  And the few hours I work on Sunday I get more done than I do in an eight or ten hour day the rest of the week.  No interruptions!

Plus, like right now, I’m uploading a video for a video review and I can write here while it’s processing – which I don’t find time to do during the week cuz other stuff grabs my time and attention.  You know, work stuff. Heh.

And there’s the fact that I can work from my bed, naked, on Sunday.  I never quite feel right doing that on Monday.

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Not much else is going on in the world of Carrie Ann.  Taylor is occupied with putting together a riding club.  The kid is occupied with his girlfriend.  I am occupied with work.  The weather is gray and dingy and all the snow is melting and the world looks dirty.

I really wish we’d get another big snow.  (I’d wish for spring but that’s pointless in January)  I hate when the view from my windows is gray slush.

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I need a hair cut.

With my thyroid issues I get night sweats almost every night.  I wake up with the roots of my hair (or all my hair) soaked from sweat most mornings.  Because of this my scalp is a wreck.

I’m not sure if a hair cut would really help but, grrrrrr….  something has to.

Maybe I should start using a hair dryer cuz not only is it wet all night but then it’s wet half the day, too, because there is so much of it. And when I get in the bath/shower it gets wet again and I haven’t been drying it after.

So.  Yeah.  My scalp is damp most of the day and night.

Hair dryer it is.

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This is shaping up to be a very boring post.  I should probably talk about sex or something, eh?

Unfortunately, we had no kid this weekend and managed to also not have sex.

Wtf is with that?

What’s really crazy is it seems to happen a lot.  You’d think when the kid is gone for a whole weekend we’d indulge ourselves in a sexual s&m frenzy but, no.  We never seem to want to do much more than enjoy the quiet.

We’re getting old.

Or, maybe it’s that the kid is a teen and rarely here anyhow so him being gone isn’t the big deal it used to be.

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Youtube is STILL processing that video.  I’ve typed all this, argued with Taylor about getting a couch in the living room, and damned near have the meat for Taylor’s spaghetti finished.

Why is it still called Taylor’s spaghetti around here when it’s always me that has to make it now, anyhow?

Hmmph.

I’m going to quit babbling and do some reviews of my own, I think.  I have many that are hopelessly overdue.

Bad me!