Well, first we try to find something to watch on TV that isn't nauseating while we have coffee. Then I make a few feeble attempts at blogging, a few more at cleaning, then a few more at still trying to decide whether to go with Garmin or Tomtom for our GPS-to-Be (I'm leaning towards the Garmin Nuvi 265T, because most of what I want it for is traffic reports and how to detour around jackknifed tractor-trailers on Route 46). Then in the early afternoon it looked something like this:
...only
in a nicer place, and the duck looked more like
this.
Then we came home and I initiated Mr. Brilliant into the wonderful world of Scrabble. I haven't played since college, but despite a valiant effort by Mr. B, the teachings I gained in childhood, in which I probably played against my father 1,476 times and only won once, served me in good stead. At 83, he still does the
New York Times crossword puzzle every Sunday. In ink. Completely finished. Before noon. Every single damn week.
Labels: War on Christmas