What to write about. Hmmm. The weather? Always good for a laugh, that. (It's muggy and rainy.) There is a report of Bin Laden's death being played down by world leaders. Seems he got sick with the typhoid. If true, that would mean he had ingested feces-tainted water containing Salmonella bacteria. It's probably untrue though, we'll see.
The renovation continues, as does the unstaunchable flow of dollars. It seems my old nemesis Visa and I have reconciled, and I keep trying to reassure myself by saying, "At least you're getting airmiles." Today, we've got a few places to sand and reputty, and a few more baseboards and moldings to put up, and then we're all done but the painting.
We scheduled the moving truck for next Sunday. We don't even have any boxes yet. And there's this piddly little matter of working all week. Looks like we'll have to pull all this together next Saturday. (This is a paragraph I would normally delete, but since we're competing for boringest post....)
Woke up at 3am this morning and then stayed in bed, flipping this way and that, spouse having fallen asleep on the couch. He is actually getting up right now as I type, the earliest I think I've ever seen him rise. Good. Time to get to work. Good Sunday everyone.