I’d planned to write a lot of great stuff for you guys to read this weekend, but I spent too much time reading books, eating snacks, and watching my tv-friends achieve an epic zombie massacre. When I spend a weekend like this, I feel a bit like I’ve failed. Like maybe I should have been doing something better than this. But then I think to myself, what would that better thing be? And I can’t come up with anything.
Dave is always telling me that something isn’t a waste if you enjoy it, but I don’t think it’s so simple. What if you enjoy buying bananas and tossing them immediately in the trash? That sounds like a waste. Or if you get new shoes, wear them to work once, and push them through your office’s paper shredder? Definitely a waste. So I don’t use that bar, because I care about the environment.
I have a new measure for weekend success—number and deliciousness of pancakes eaten. I just decided this was the standard, so I didn’t count this weekend’s intake, but I know it would register pretty high on the pancake-devouring scale. Also, they were eaten with blueberry syrup made from actual blueberries, which adds a few points for fanciness. Next weekend, I’ll either have to eat 23 pancakes or wear tuxedo pajamas to breakfast. Win-win.