Saturday, 7 April 2007

How much for your wings?

It must be Saturday. He's singing.

    Twenty-five pounds of pure cane sugar
    She's got in each and every kiss
    You wouldn't know what I'm talking 'bout
    If you never had a love like this
    Well, I don't mean to be frank with you all
    It's a natural fact
    Good things come wrapped up in small, small packages now
    Well you can't argue with that
    Ninety-nine pounds of natural born goodness
    Ninety-nine pounds of soul
    Ninety-nine pounds of natural born goodness
    Ninety-nine pounds of soul

Aw. I like days that begin this way. I also like days that start off with noticing new muscles on my husband while we're in the shower. His calf muscles have muscles on their muscles now. He claims it's from all the running we were doing.

Well then shouldn't I have those too?

I don't.

Ninety-nine pounds of fluff.

But my cold is waning, so that is a good thing. Sneezing with cracked ribs makes me want to bind myself up with duct tape and hope for the best. Owies. Today I'm going to wear my new jeans as I run around doing errands that I put off all week long. Winter is still raging here in the north and it's become incredibly difficult to find the want to leave the house unless it's absolutely necessary.

It's a good excuse to treat myself to some new reads and so I shall add the bookstore to my list. I think I have exhausted the library, truth be told. I didn't think that was possible in a city this big. Of course, the day the library snugs a Starbucks in betwixt their rows of words is the day I grab my stuff and go move right in. I'm hooked. I'll admit. But my habit runs once a week or less so I can still justify a designer coffee without being branded a fanatic.

I swear.