My God, I completely forgot how long a day can be when you're home alone with a long list of fairly congenial tasks. I have baked two kinds of bread, made one kind of ice cream, finished Dad's quilt top (remind me never to work with T-shirts again; also, why do I always realize that my design/color is ugly when I'm almost done and have no energy or time to start over? though I notice that generally goes away, though I'm not sure whether that's distance from the work or resignation), vacuumed, filled out the credit card fraud form (I have to get it notarized. Where do I go to have this done?), washed hand-washed laundry, and entertained a friend (who said the lemon ice cream was the best ice cream she's ever had).
Still to do tomorrow: one freelance assignment, birth and tie the quilt (because I'm not quilting; it'll take too long and will only make it look worse--luckily Dad won't really care), regular laundry, start packing, weed and mulch. Not bad, not bad at all. I can hardly believe I've got a whole other day of weekend.