Last night I was in a funk. No particular reason apart from the sameness of my days and nights as of late: work, get the kid, go home, eat, sleep, repeat. It started to feel like house arrest and I just kind of moped around watching TV and consciously deciding not to do any of the small household projects that comprise the jumble and spillage of our current lives. Donny, bless him, was a very good baby throughout this all. We gave him a much needed bath, dressed him in his pajamas and I gave him his bedtime bottle while I watched a rodeo themed (?!?) episode of CSI. Donny slept all night; I did not. I got this tickle in my throat that sent me downstairs for cough medicine at 1 in the morning. Now I’m at work all sleepy and a bit wispy inside thanks to the Corisidin. I should mention that work is turning into a huge, colossal mammoth pile of projects AND I’m up for review this year. I’m trying to just do one thing at a time but everyday is a new to-do list and I’m getting a bit nervous about it all.
What might just get me thru the day is a package my friend Elie sent me. Elie and I are soulmates on many levels: Geminis, ½ Hungarian, Classic Rock geeks, fine soap addicts, devotees of good socks, Frick Art and Historical Center alumni to name a few. She always sends me the best packages and there was one on our doorstep this morning. I opened it quick and grabbed the bag of Kiflics: Hungarian cookies and Diet Coke for breakfast! I know its wrong but, really, today? I could care less.
Oh—and Pittsburgh? They’re kiflics NOT kolachkes. Trust the Hunky: I Know my Cookies.