My wife is in the weird situation of celebrating Independence day in the country that independence was gained from.
When she comes home from work, I’ll serve her up some pizza and a rootbeer float or two (we managed to find rootbeer in the UK, yay!) then she’ll settle down to watch her favourite quiz show - Countdown - and be given the best back scratch in the world.
I’m cleaning tomorrow. This has got to get done. Then I get to start packing, since the move occurs four weeks from Saturday.
Friday, a friend is driving into town and we’re going to the baseball game. Saturday, I need to drive to Knoxville and find a darn apartment to live in, four weeks from Saturday.
Sunday: more packing.
Monday? Back to work.
Lame? yeah. Relaxing? Maybe. Will I get what I need to get done done? I hope so.
I messed my knee up cycling, so I’m couch-ridden for a while. But am venturing out to see the new Jodie foster move, ‘Secret Lives of Altar boys’ at the matinee. Then possibly down to the Student Union to see a reggae band play.
Mix up a batch of Dieters special boom-boom powder, pack it in a cardboard tube, blow of another finger. Only 3 fingers to go before I start in on my toes.
I will be dropping off some fliers at the Libertarian Party table at the Lake Eola festival in Orlando, then heading up to see my son at Boy Scout Camp. Apparently he’s had a wonderful time and hasn’t missed me at all ::sniff sniff::
Then, because my place of employment decided four day weekends are unnecessary, I have to go BACK TO WORK tomorrow. Despite the fact, of course, that probably 3/4 of the company took a personal day off to enjoy a four day weekend. Oh well, it will be quiet and I might be able to hop online to SDMB a little more than I should…