Feeding my daughter some breakfast. I will say, though, if she would’ve eaten the eggs and hash browns that I fixed from scratch, she wouldn’t be hungry right now. I should also be checking on her while she fixes her own cheese sandwich. Update: she just came and showed me her creation. She chose shredded mozzarella instead of the American slices, of course.
Folding the clothes in the dryer so I can put the new load in when it’s done. I have a stackable washer/dryer combo and you can only wash or dry, not both at the same time. We did not realize this until it was purchased, picked up and completely installed in our house. Also, we built cabinets to fit around a stackable so we kind of screwed ourselves from the getgo.
Going to the grocery store for toilet paper. We literally have no paper products in the house that will work as a substitute for toilet paper. Yet, here I am, sitting on my laptop in my pajamas at 11:41 on a Sunday morning…drinking coffee…not buying toilet paper.
Calling my sister to explain why I probably won’t be visiting this summer.
Calling my friend to ask if she needs anything after being broken into while out of town. According to Facebook, she’s okay but if I were a better friend, I’d be on the phone with her right now. When she sees this, though, she’ll see that she’s not the only thing I’m procrastinating about, and perhaps she won’t be too upset.
Organizing photos on my scrapblog so I’ll have 4 complete albums for Lily’s 5th birthday.
Making the beds.
Painting my toenails.
Playing Hello Kitty Bingo with the kid.
Picking blueberries, then making a pie.
Reading Geek Love for my book club, though that book is over 10 years past its prime, I’m sure it will be a fine read…if I would just get started.
Sometimes just thinking about all the things I could be doing almost makes me feel like I’m accomplishing something. I actually feel better. Still not doing anything, but don’t feel so bad about it. I think I’ll go stumble some more until someone forces me into action.
This is where I write things. 