Yesterday I went to my sister’s house for a huge Italian dinner and the premiere of the new season of The Sopranos. I’d baked two loaves of Italian bread which came out quite well, if I do say so myself. I spent the time between rising and baking cycles lying in bed either reading or napping. This was not a productive weekend for me, but I blame my lingering cough. I would say that I’m getting better now, but I’ve been saying that for three weeks and the evidence is still inconclusive.
I was going to spend this evening figuring out what’s wrong with my computer. I can’t put it off forever – I have deadlines looming. However, since I stayed up until 2 a.m. dealing with it last night, I’m going to get some other things done instead.
First there’s the baking mess from yesterday. My grandmother always tried to convince me that if I would only clean up the kitchen as I went along, I’d save myself oh so much trouble. I know she’s right, but it’s easy to get lazy when no guests are going to see the aftermath.
Last night my husband asked me, “How come your sister can cook a big meal like this and not mess up the kitchen nearly as much as you do?” Ha ha! The answer to that question is that my sister and brother-in-law agreed long ago that when she cooks, he cleans up. My husband and I have no such agreement, much to my dismay, but at least I got a chance to press the point a bit. I’m not holding my breath that it will have any effect, but I’ll take any minor coup I can get in the chore wars.
So, off I go to wash the dishes and do a jeans load so I’ll have something to wear to work tomorrow. Who knows? Maybe I’ll even sort through the teetering stacks of mail on the kitchen counter. Nah, I wouldn’t want to get ahead of myself.
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