And my mid-week weekend began with some chest congestion and a slight sniffle. I'm debating whether I want to waste another one of my free Covid tests. I will probably wait and see if things progress. These days it's too easy to slip into panic mode. Nope, wrong word. I don't panic. It's more of a son of a bitch mode, you know what I mean, more of a pain in the ass than anything else. There's things needing to be done. The washer and dryer arrive tomorrow.
My kitchen ceiling is patched and ready to be painted. I checked with the Paint desk to see if Behr was going to be going on sale soon and was told 'no.' Of course, having managed the paint department for a number of years, I can tell you more than likely a paint sale is coming up. Over all, paint is not making its plan, so corporate will want to increase sales and to do that they'll run a sale. The mark-up in paint, as with so many of the things we sell, is high, so a $5 or $10 off coupon is not really going to make a dint in the profit margin.
Biggie was supposed to go for bloodwork late this afternoon. They called and postponed it; the vet had to take his father to an appointment. No problem here. While Biggie does lay around a lot, he's also going to be 8 years old on 12/25, which, given his size, means he's most likely considered nearing the age of a geriatric dog. Not that he doesn't still have a lot of bounce, he just seems happier to be doing this, napping against my leg while we were waiting for the drywall contractor to finish.
|Time to moisturize his nose again|
So, the Defense of Marriage Act is going to get a vote today. As it stands now, it will not codify same sex marriage into law because... wait for it... 3 of the Republicans who originally voted for it have reneged. Mike Lee, a Trump ass-licker, added a religious amendment to the bill, to satisfy the GOP's every shrinking Christian minority. Given the chance, Republicans will desperately try to force their mutating social conservatism onto America.