There is nothing new under the sun

The snow can ... you know ... stop now. Granted, I think we have less than a lot of the neighboring areas (we only got about 2-3" compared to everyone else, I'd guess), but it's to the point where Mikenna doesn't know where to pee again. I try trampling or kicking the snow to make a path for her, but that's just not really cutting it for her. (Among other things, she doesn't enjoy being confined to one spot!) So today I resorted to walking her out to the parking lot so she could pee in an area that had snow ... but she could walk on it easily.

At any rate, we stayed home today, except for an early-afternoon-by-necessity-grocery trip. It was a very nice, low-key day...fairly low-key weekend, anyway, and that was really nice. This week's going to be a bit busier, I think, so it was nice to just sit. I daresay that is the one benefit to this wretched snow accumulation. (Also, we finally got caught up on our laundry again. That's the other benefit. I know we wouldn't be so bad about laundry if it weren't such a quarter sucker. I know I'm getting old because I fantasize about things like a Dyson vacuum and our own washer and dryer. Oh baby.)

Tentatively tomorrow I'd like to clean up the bedrooms and straighten up the living room...that probably shouldn't take more than 30 minutes if I'm slow. I also want to wipe down the kitchen counters, maybe wash the floor, even though it's an exercise in futility at this point with the snow we track in. I'm also trying out a couple different cookie recipes tomorrow...well, one for sure, two if I'm ambitious. Then, I'd like to do some reading, see if I can't knock out Alison Weir's Henry VIII by the end of the week, and depending how I feel from there, get some good cardio in, shower, and maybe even bust out the oil paints. Oh, I love this time of night...I'm so enthusiastic about the next day. I guarantee that come 9 am tomorrow morning, I'm going to be trudging around in my slipper socks and muttering under my breath.

Before I go, a yay and a yarg:
yay: our friend Michael's friend Helen is coming up from New Zealand for a couple of weeks, and I guess I'm either the least scary of the friends, or the most available, because he wants me to hang out with her. I'm just ... absurdly excited about this, probably way more than I should be. It's because she's from New Zealand, too, and my excitement borders on that of meeting a rock star. I pretend that I'm going to be fabulously confident and chatter up a storm with her, but really, I'm going to sit on the couch, blush, and giggle at everything she says because it just sounds so awesome. Gosh. I hope I at least don't turn into a 13 year old and say something like "Like, hay do u kno who Phil Joel is like Oh-Em-Gee?"

yarg: for some reason, Matt's direct deposit was set up to go directly to savings in our new bank. Because that makes a LOT of sense, right? I'm not sure if it's policy, or if someone just punched a button wrong or what...but it would have been nice if I'd known about it, say, before the overdraft notice in the mail. It's not a huge deal, it can be fixed, and they only charge a $1.50 overdraft fee ... but the principle of the matter is what irks me. If it's policy - because it's such a backwards policy (to put the money directly into an account that is typically less used?), they should tell you upfront. Or it would have been nice if Matt had noticed on his paystub. Not the end of the world or anything, but it's a brand new account, and I hate having that blemish on it on the third stinking transaction, when we're trying to be so good! We HAVE the money, it's just in SAVINGS and not CHECKING. BWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!

Ok. I'm good.