Confessions from my bed on a Saturday at noon thirty

You read correctly, I am in bed and it's Saturday at 12:41pm. I woke up rather late (having gone to bed rather late), and decided to make the most of this GORGEOUS Seattle rain by brewing a pot of Earl Gray and making myself eggs to eat in bed. I sit here surrounded by magazines, listening to Debussy, and petting the feline. Since my hardworking husband is working on our car at his parent's house, I am just soaking up the solitude.

I confess to this. I may have spent the last 2o minutes on this website. Confusingwords.com is so informative! What a great refresher course. Now, many people mentioned to me that certain knowledge one acquires in high school can become irrelevant to ones daily life. I suppose that is true, I mean how often do you have to explain the difference between the words affect and effect? Well, I am happy to say that perhaps one of the only reasons a person might want to brush up on these skills is simply to casually recite the rule at a party, martini in hand. You know, as if you've known it these last ten years and just recalled it like it was nothing.

Because the purpose of being educated is to lord it over people, clearly.

Other confessions:

• I've been spending way too much online trying to find good sheets. I was lying in my sheets the other day with more skin touching them than usual (AHEM) and thought, "Why the hell do I put up with these scratch, 7-year old sheets?!" I am buying new ones. Any recommendations?
  
  
• Oh dears, this is the hardest one. I am about 10 pages from finishing Plath's journals. This, like Dillard's Pilgrim at Tinker Creek is one of those books that it absolutely pains you to finish. I know there is no rule forbidding me to start it over the second I finish it, but that first reading is so irreplaceable and I have been neglecting my read of The Brothers Karamozov for her. I keep putting those last pages off. She's been with me for about a year now.
  
  
• My plans today should include finding boxes and packing them. However, since it's my last official Saturday in the city, I feel as though I will eventually get out of bed, get dressed in tall socks, walk myself to lunch, write a letter, grab a drink, and take it all in.

Thank you, Seattle.
Thank you for the perfect cool grayness of my last official weekend day with you.