Last week was a long one. I’ve started this newsletter…four times? I keep having to go back and revise it based on how much time has passed since the last time I attempted to write it.
My company had a big news release last week and it was very exciting but I have crested the wave of adrenaline and am now plunging down, down, down, into the trough of Regular-Ass Work Stuff That Needs Attention. All I want to do is mess with my quilt and read my new cookbooks, but alas.
Only my big little dog went to school last week because the puppy is sneezing and hacking. I suppose this is her inaugural bout with kennel cough and I can’t wait for it to be over. Presumably, presumably after this episode, she will be somewhat resistant to getting it again for a while. I need these dogs to be in tip-top shape when we go out of town next month. I feel bad for this tiny dog and her big coughs, but I am also very over sleeping on the couch with her. If I put her in her crate she is hacking in the other dog’s airspace all night plus it is noisy AF and nobody sleeps. If I just put her on the couch she seems to be more comfortable and at least half of us get to sleep.
Last week we had our furniture and a couple of floors cleaned, which is not Regular Exciting but it is Homeowner Exciting. We also sent our big living room rug to the rug hospital to be cleaned (it’s vintage and fussy) and it was returned to us on Friday. The rug hospital charges $2.75 per square foot for washing, which comes to about $300 for our rug. The receipt the rug people left with us had some chicken scratch on it that said “275/sq ft” and my very alarmed husband saw it and remarked, “THIS SAYS $275 PER SQUARE FOOT!” Yes, I agreed to pay THIRTY THOUSAND DOLLARS to get a rug cleaned. That is absolutely something I would do. Eyeroll emoji!
ENTERTAINMENT CORNER. I guess this is just my time to catch up on AMC’s back catalog, because I have been enjoying Halt and Catch Fire on Netflix. It is not a perfect show, but it is a good show. I also want to start Enola Holmes and of course GBBO started last week. I watched it with some degree of trepidation (the last season was horrible) but it seems like it is back to its delightful self. I binged all seven episodes of PEN15 over the weekend, and it was good but perhaps not as good as the first season.
I do not know why we have chosen to selectively re-watch Downton Abbey in a very accelerated fashion. We do love Downton Abbey but mostly what we love now is making fun of Mr. Bates (“Shall I murder him for you, my lord?”) and of course poor poor stupid terrible Edith, whose offenses are too numerous to get into here.
On Saturday I had groceries delivered from Whole Foods and one entire bag was sealed shut with a sticker bearing the world ALCOHOL, which sounds much more exciting than a bottle of mid-priced rosé and a six-pack of IPA, but it still amused me. I chose rosé because this was most likely the last weekend of temps in the high 70s; now it is time to guzzle red wine.
Along with rosé, we also bid farewell to my brother-in-law’s pool this weekend with one final dip. I got in before anybody else (and more importantly, before a gang of toddlers and preschoolers chucked a bunch of floaties and assorted other garbage into the water) and swam a few laps all alone. It was a glorious coda to the season.