I think I did next-to-nothing useful today. I've learned my lesson: never even think of picking up a Patricia Wentworth mystery novel until all the necessary things have been done for the day! And only then if it's not bedtime already!
You know, I have The Most Patient Husband. He came home to see me curled on
the couch with "The Benevent Treasure" and instead of drawing guilt out of me*
for letting Ender be a wild man (why not when so little is off limits for him
finally?), he remarked at how cute he finds me with a book. It honestly doesn't
happen as often as I wish, but when it does it's as if I'm in another world.
Ender gets his diaper changed, and I play with him and get him fed, but the
house gets no such attention. Michael is never upset with me...dear, loving
husband. Every girl would believe her daddy's claim that she's a princess if she
had such a prince as my man. I love him, and he never leaves room for me to
wonder if he loves me back.
And one morning, when I stayed in bed all morning like a spoilt, rich princess, he just felt glad for me that I could enjoy some time to myself and be pampered like that. He's all the handsomer for his gentlemanly lovings.
*he'd never, I'm just saying...