Weekend. Time to catch-up, recuperate, plan and fret simultaneously. Hectic as things can get, I never find myself looking forward to Monday, though. I got my hair done this morning, some finances worked out this afternoon, The Socialist’s Christmas presents finished off, and some messing around accomplished on the computer.
Last August I purchased tickets for a Dar Williams concert. Tonight’s the night. I don’t know when I’ve ever purchased tickets so far in advance for anything. She didn’t come out with a new CD this year … she was too busy publishing a children’s book and having a kid herself. That means that tonight’s concert will be old favorites instead of introducing new songs. That’s fine with me. I look forward to sitting in a smallish theater with aging hippie types and grooving to the familiar.
The tree is up, as of last weekend, and the cats have discovered it. So far, no casualties among the ornaments, although the lowest lights keep mysteriously ending up droopping from their limbs. I know which little grey shit is responsible for that, and for the glass icicles that have migrated to the linoleum in the entranceway. She likes playing with her ill gotten gains on linoleum rather than carpet because they slide better there. Simultaneously smart and stupid: it’s probably part of the definition of a cat.