Thursday, May 17th

Yesterday was full; put orders together, took Tim to the airport, ran errands, worked, brought restocks into Wild Iris (where I took yesterdays photo, of a pair of mugs that I can’t believe haven’t sold yet), and then hung with the spinners and knitters until I was yawning every other second and decided to slink home, where the animals all looked at me as if to say “YOU ARE NOT THE TIM.” Seriously, his cat sat on the coffee table in front of the couch and gave me Bitchface as if she’d been taking lessons from Fat Cat.

This morning I took Backup Dog for a 2-mile walk, confirming my suspicion that I am really out of shape. My current audio book is Ready Player One, and only a couple hours into it I already want to see it as a movie… the problem is that Wil Wheaton reads it, and now I don’t want to see anyone but him play the lead. Thanks, Arne, for the recommendation! Oh, and that reminds me… I have about eight or nine books to add into Goodreads that I’ve read in the last month and need to review.

Today the plan is to wind yarn, make lip balm restocks, and finish wrapping soap I never got to yesterday… all while firing the kiln. The kiln is already on, so that’s one thing crossed off the list. I need a bit more coffee (and a shower) and then I’ll be ready for the rest of it.

You don’t know how much I was thinking of telling everyone that I was going with Tim to South Bend after all, but then staying home and hiding and not doing any work. Alas, that would backfire on me because y’all know how I am with the photos, so I’d have to pretend that I left my camera, my phone, and my laptop all at home… and one of my friends would have to pretend to come over and feed that cats, and I’d have to pretend to find a place to kennel the dogs, and then I’d have to have stocked up on everything so I wouldn’t have to leave the house and risk running into someone at the grocery store for an entire week, and… sweet zombie Jesus, that started to feel like more work than just staying home and working.

So. Here I am. Home alone, without That Poor Man. Living on Kraft macaroni and cheese for a week, and trying to remember to feed the cats. Oh. Which Tim usually does first thing in the morning, usually about an hour ago. I can’t believe they haven’t tried to chew off one of my legs yet.