Whacked. The counter is clean from the oven to the sink; I'm done baking cookies; the full dishwasher is running; both sinks are clear - one is clean; and I'm leaving the handwash for Sunday and the messy table for the morning.
We're down to three guests. The kid Tigger's age decided he wanted to go home. According to his mom, he still does this sometimes. He still wants to go to the tournament though, so I'm picking him up in the morning at his house. I got directions from her before she left. And it's not particularly out of the way, assuming he's ready to go when we get there.
I forgot to mention something weird. At one point this evening, probably right after I put away a couple of casserole dishes out of the dishwasher, I remembered that coach has one of my casserole dishes. Thinking that it would be convenient for him to bring it to the tournament, I gave him a call. Seems he had just that minute been discussing the dish with his wife - debating about whether I'd want to keep up with it at the tournament.
And, I'm bursting to write about my anniversary gift from Wolf, but I need to talk to Flar about it first. That's all I can say.
Sleep good.
