I’ve been fairly exhausted since our weekend in Palm Springs. I’m not sure if it was the heat, waking up early, the heat, going to bed late, or the heat, but it just seems, since we returned home, I haven’t been able to catch up.
And it certainly didn’t help that I stayed up until one a.m. on Monday giving myself carpal tunnel editing over two hundred softball pictures when I’d much rather have gone to bed and watched reruns of Seinfeld. Normally, as the World’s Greatest Procrastinator, I’d have sat on these photos for six months, but there’s nothing more obnoxious than ten grown men who want to drool over pictures of themselves playing sports and pretend they’re eighteen again. Now, I could happily spend the rest of my life never looking at another softball picture ever again.
I found the energy to make this cake on Monday. Unfortunately, the only thing worse than the cake were the photos I took. I’m going to try again and next time, we’re going full fat, baby. (I made the mistake of getting all “health conscious” and used fat-free sugar-free pudding, light sour cream, apple sauce instead of oil, and egg whites. I’m sorry. I know better than that.)
But the cake will have to wait. My plans for this evening will include changing into the most comfortable and least attractive clothes I own, sitting my ass down in the perfectly molded-especially-by-my-butt sofa cushion, holding onto the remote control (in an ironclad grasp that even the Husband himself won’t be able to penetrate), and the occasional movement of my thumb pressing the “play” button as I catch up on my favorite television shows.