Thursday Doesn't Even Start, or Day Four

Let's hit the ground running, shall we?

You know what the really interesting thing is about building successful habits? You have to keep doing them, or they stop being successful. I know, right? My mind is blown.

I've had a miserable, PMSy sort of day, that included listening to a lot of Dixie Chicks and weeping, then listening to a lot of Gogol Bordello and trying to teach Miriam and Ginny how to pronounce "Immigraniada" (although that bit didn't meet as much success as you might think). I also spent more time than I care to admit imagining ways that Eugene Hutz could guest star on The Simpsons, possibly as Lionel Hutz's cousin or brother. Then I remember Phil Hartman, and that didn't help the hormonal weepies.

Gypsy punk is totally 50s, right?

Daily chore
THURSDAY
Wash clothes.  Not everyone had an automatic washer so many 50's housewives still had to do this by hand.  It was an all day chore.

Or, you know, the housewife in question could have an automatic washer, and some cramps, and maybe decide to just run a couple of loads through the wash and call it a day. Hey, that's two loads of laundry that weren't washed yesterday, and that's nothing to sneeze at.

Some reflections on the day

• PMS makes me useless
• Damn you, Bryn Hartman
• Even though the house was a mess when my husband arrived home, the 3 previous days of non-stop cleaning made it fairly easy to recover
• Chicken and Avocado Soup make look amazing on Pinterest, but the real-life result is disappointing