Saturday night's alright.

Another Saturday and I'm watchin' the Red Sox
I got some food, cuz I just went to the sto'

OK, maybe not my best made up song, but I'm calling my day productive: dry cleaning dropped off, check, mani-pedi, check, market, check. And now I've got a fridge full of treats and meals planned for the week ahead, the Red Sox on tv (GO SOX!), and pants with elastic for a waist on. A couple of years ago I'd've been disappointed, but today, I am more than satisfied with my evening plan. I'm enough over the food poisoning to have a beer at hand and pretzel chips with cheesy dip sitting next to me - OK, I'm as belchy as my brother-in-law, but there's no one here to be offended. He can't say that. I'm giving myself the lazy Saturday I haven't had in a while, particularly because I've brought work home for tomorrow and Monday (a government holiday, so nominally a day of rest). In my three full days of work this week I've managed to work enough to take back some of my sick time from Monday and Tuesday. Sounds good in theory, but unless you use your sick time what good is it? You only get to build up so much and then you stop accumulating it, so I want to at the very least get to use it when I'm actually sick. I feel gypped. Oh well, what can you do?

I'm not writing the post about what happened to my housefund in the stock market this year. I know, rationally, that things will turn around, but getting that "earnings" statement still hurts. It just makes me want to take my big raise (October paycheck, I can't wait!) and either spend it on a Burmuda weekend or stuff it in a mattress. Except I love my mattress just the way it is. Burmuda would be a good way to turn thirty...