Inspired Errands

Nothing makes me want to do something fun like a list of lackluster chores.

After far too many cups of coffee and a long walk to get me thinking, I think I'd like to spend the afternoon. .

Planting some of these in our sad, dead front yard:

Painting a piece of furniture this color (fear not, father-in-law, king of antiques, this won't actually happen):

Baking a cake to put it on my gorgeous cake plate that never gets used.

Buying flowers for the coffee table. HA. Toddler hands with gladiolus in reach. HA.

But. . . .

The front windshield of our car needs replacing. . . because wow, I've put that off a long time and nothing says safe (and classy) like a week-long road trip with a cracked windshield.


Harper's vast array of pajamas need to be washed. . . we're scraping the bottom of the fleece-footed barrel. If things don't happen quickly, we're poised for a showing of the blue ones with trucks, to which she is adamantly opposed. "No turks!"


We need to scream bloody murder while hurtling into a black hole of muddy abiss get the car washed . . . That's an emotional scar I'd just as soon not inflict.

And honestly? The house needs to be cleaned. Like.. actually cleaned, not just straightened.

On that last one, I'll defer to my home girl Mary Randolph Carter:

 A perfectly kept house is a sign of a misspent life.