I Wait Five Days for It.

It's been simultaneously productive and low-key. This is what our White Hot weekend looked like:

List making. Type A control needs soothed? Check.

An inordinate amount of dog snuggling, even for us. I won't even tell you how we have set up a makeshift bed for Fletcher in every room. Or how he tried to climb into my lap while we were eating breakfast, so I finished eating in record time so I could hold him without a ticket from the hygiene police. With his zero percent body fat he is cold all the time right now, so we are focused on keeping him warm. We even pulled out his jacket. I both acknowledge and accept full responsibility for its hideousness. I bought it as a joke for him to wear during football-watching last year. It looks like a fleece version of a boxing robe. It is now coming in quite handy, all jokes aside.

Cooking! Thank goodness for all of us.

List-crossing-off! Not too bad for twenty-four hours of getting stuff done. I won't pretend like it's anything revolutionary that I write already-completed tasks on my list just so I can check them off. But, I do. P.S. Do you love this notepad? It's from Hugh. He is the best gift-giver ever. Reason number 743.

Brotherly bonding. Since Fletcher is sick, he has much less energy than usual. This means that Henry is tolerating him like never before. It's too much cuteness for me to handle.

Not pictured: nonstop studying. Five days to go until our two week break. You can do it, h!

Hope you're busy avoiding the Sunday blues.