Yesterday, I baked cookies and hauled the daughter down to the office so she could test some more people for her science fair project.
(This does not involve my refrigerator. Thank god. However, it does involve humans. Who are about as tough to corral as cats. This is the last year ever that I have to be involved in science fair.)
And for the final year, hooray, I'll be a judge for the science fair. They offered to get me a wheelchair so I could be there the whole 4 hours.
(I think they were joking. About the wheelchair, anyway.)
I brought the cat home today. Again. He still has a feeding tube. Now I get to feed him a hellish slurry of water and wet cat food. Through the tube. Yay! He'd gotten pretty used to the vet hospital, and was running around like he owned the place (and after what I've paid for him the last three weeks, I think we do own a chunk. This is not to say that the vet hasn't been incredibly kind, fair and caring. He's been all those things and more. We couldn't ask for a better vet. Still, health care is expensive, even for a cat). However, when I got him home, Milton started kneading my chest with the apparent intent of inserting himself inside my body, purring wildly. I think he was pleased to be back. In the last couple of days, his chances of survival have increased significantly, though the feeding tube might be a long affair.
Last night as we were packing up to leave the office, the daughter finally got word that her application has been accepted, and she's been scheduled to audition at the arts high school. One more hurdle.
Birthday parties to plan. Birthday parties to attend. The son has a friend coming over to do a biology project. I've got people roaming through the house all weekend with the daughter's project.
Gardening. Well, I won't be doing that.
And so we go.
Go listen to some good music: "remembrances" from the album ...undone by The Lucy Show.