The rest of the week holds mundaneness, which, I must say, sounds delightful.
The only exception is that my husband and I have a funeral service to attend on Friday morning, an older member of our church we didn't really know, except by sight. No emotional ties to make us sad, but going to swell the numbers. On the upside, his service is to be at an historic cemetery here in town, and I admit, I'm looking forward to that part. I love cemeteries. So shoot me.
Will go the pet store, this afternoon, after dropping off youngest son at work, to buy the least one's puppy a new dog crate. Then Luna can stretch her legs. She's sort of a destructive puppy, albeit, a cute little monster. A chewer. Nothing is sacred, but that it's a chew toy. We keep all shoes up off the floor. My only indulgence, seriously, is my Birkenstocks, so I'd have a fit if she touched them. A total fit.
Rainy still. Slow and soaking. Pre-spring weather. Last night's spaghetti for dinner, some school with the least one and maybe I'll bake something nice. Might be time for some cake. Discovered a painter mentioned in a book I'm reading, and he is famous for painting cake. How awesome is that? Wayne Thiebaud. Considering printing out one of his and doing a copy for my own walls.
Must get myself motivated now. The house needs a vacuuming, general tidying, and the dogs need feeding. A restoring day, I trust.