It's after one pm and I'm - still in bed.
To my right is a copy of "The Secret Supper" - a wonderful book (or so it's been touted) that, after 300 pages, I still have no clue what the point of it was. So, either I'm too dumb to "get it" or to smart to "fall for it." Let's go with the latter to save my sanity, k?
To my feet is my ever-present heating pad (for my still aching side), my "Live in Love" tote bag (which harbors my present works) and a box containing a half-eaten pizza. I feel like the typical recluse only I have more guilt than a person choosing to be inside on this gorgeous day. Why am I feeling this way? Because I just had to hike up the volume on the FoodNetwork in order to hear it over the lawnmower that my dear, overworked hubby is pushing around our front yard.
I guess I should pry my legs from under my warm, toasty blanket and run a brush through my greasy hair to join my hubby in the "joy" of yardwork.
Wish me luck, no bug bites and that my hands shall not come into contact with : bugs, dirt, sweat, or plants of any kind.
I'm such a girl....