There's no other way to explain it. After an ass-kicking week, I finally managed to leave work two whole hours early today. I braved the Mall of America to return a pair of defective capris and buy new capris with a forgotten gift/merchandise card. Then I went to Target where I had to pee like nobody's business, but I had to wait, because the loo was full of people pooping.
When I got home, I had a brief period of downtime. I sat on the couch and watched the "Homer Bad Man" episode of The Simpsons (one of my favorites) while organizing my underwear drawer.
But after the underwear drawer was organized and I'd had a little booze, I became a freakin' dynamo. I put clothes away, picked/tidied up, dusted and vacuumed (though not too terribly well ... I need a new vacuum). Then I cooked up my Swiss chard, made cilantro pesto and washed dishes. And now here I am. Drunk before 10:00 and watching the Twins hopefully beat the hated Bitch Sox.
Normally, I clean after I get home from the gym on Saturdays, so I'm already sweaty and don't get sweaty when it's not necessary. I figured cleaning tonight would at least make me be a tiny bit active (it was just too fucking hot to be outside any more than necessary), so I wouldn't feel terrible about skipping the gym. Also, now I can go to the gym tomorrow and then all I need to do is laundry before I go to The Boy I Currently Like's house.
This means I won't have anything to do before or after the Bastille Day Block Party on Sunday. So I can go get drunk with at least one of the Shawns, hopefully KayGee and The Prison Librarian and also W&J. I don't have nicknames for them yet. Maybe someday.
Either way, I think I'm done with all my shit for tonight. Save for a shower. I didn't get horribly sweaty while cleaning, but I feel gross enough that a shower would be good. Then I won't be stinky when I go to the gym tomorrow morning. To get stinky. I swear, it all makes sense in my head.
Anyway, yay weekend, yay booze. Yay motherfucking couch.