Semi-Domesticated

Since I work three weekends a month, I usually have Thursday and Friday off as a pseudo-weekend. This past faux weekend was an especially good one, as I received my radioactive monkey prize package around lunchtime on Friday:


According to the Anti Radioactive Monkey Society, providers of the prizes, the little button stands for "no radioactive monkeys," but I've decided it can't apply to my little green monkey, because he's too damn cute to be dangerous.



Also, I'm completely enthralled by the wee barrel of monkeys:



On Thursday night, MB had presented me with a box of miniature ice cream sandwiches:


And also, flowers:



So on Friday, I decided to return the surprise:


(Dishes are one of MB's chores. I do the laundry, he does the dishes. He was quite pleased to find that he'd been let off the hook this time around.)


At some point, I looked outside and discovered that the hibiscus plants are almost as tall as I am:




By the time I got the photos together to assemble this post, the hibiscus had finally decided to bloom, for the first time this summer:







Besides ogling things in the garden and baking cookies for my man, I've been doing a lot of regular housewifey stuff, too. I've always been a huge clutter-er, and pretty much all this year, I've been keeping the place relatively clutter-free. I've been vacuuming the carpet more than once a month, and even making the bed sometimes. What's weirder than the fact that I'm doing this stuff is the fact that I've actually been enjoying it. Is it possible that I'm finally becoming domesticated? Say it ain't so!


"Did someone call for Tech Support?"






Reading:  Lean Mean Thirteen by Janet Evanovich


Playing:  Howl by Black Rebel Motorcycle Club,  Soviet Kitsch by Regina Spektor