Tick tock Hurry up

Football starts in one hour and twelve minutes, and I am not going to be ready. Every weekend, the goal is the same: Finish everything so that when football starts, I can park my lard ass on the sofa and stay there until about halftime of the night game, then go to bed. Every weekend, I fail.

I am one item short of finishing yesterday's to do list, and I haven't even looked at today's to do list. I have the week's mail to go through, the bills to pay, some arbitrary knitting deadline I set for myself, a thank-you note to write, weatherstripping to put up (although I seem to remember paying someone else to do it for me), winter table linens to put out (which can't happen until I clear the dining room table), summer table linens to wash and put away, an electrical outlet plate to screw in (assuming I can find a screw), a discussion to have with The Man about what we're doing for Thanksgiving, beagle ears to clean, Kirby to bathe, a bed to make, my room to vacuum, a 4-hour movie to watch on DVD, 2 episodes of the Sopranos to watch, I was going to get a pedicure, and we need to make a run to the Petsmart. Oh, and I have to figure out who to vote for on Tuesday and I don't even know who's running yet. Plus probably some other stuff that I forgot. And we already raked the yard and mowed the grass (for the last time of the season, we hope), and we need to finish watering it, and I can't take a shower or do laundry until that's done. And I'm hungry. And now it's 1 hour and three minutes to football and I'm blogging instead of doing any of it. And this is just what I remember without actually looking at the list. The only thing I can't do that I need to do is go to the bank, which is closed. So that's out. Mercifully. But I can still feel bad for not doing that yesterday when I had the chance.

This makes The Man crazy. He thinks that weekends are for resting and gets mighty annoyed when Bunny is excessively busy during his butt time. I'm trying really really really hard not to send him out on any errands.