Written February 22, 2025
Hello Dear Readers,
Today is a bit of a whirlwind—but in the best way possible. First off, it’s my sister’s birthday, which is reason enough to celebrate. Even better, we’re heading over to her brand-new house, a place she and her family just bought. However, there’s a slight plot twist: her household has been on a merry-go-round of sickness for weeks. What is the official party status? Still a little up in the air.
She hadn’t confirmed anything earlier, but I assumed the celebration was still happening. Turns out, I guessed right—she texted this morning that we’re good to go. That means I get to see her, which is great news, and my wife—who adores our niece—is downright thrilled. She’s been working on my sister’s birthday gifts for months. Usually, she buys them early and lets them sit around like museum exhibits, waiting for their grand unveiling. This time, though, she’s been swamped with year-end work, so guess who got the honor of wrapping everything? That’s right—me. And if I do say so myself, those gifts are wrapped with precision, if not perfection.
Of course, with all the festivities, my well-laid weekend plans had to shuffle around. Running? Rescheduled. Vacuuming? Pushed to tomorrow—without a hint of regret. My wife, ever the planner, had already mapped out next week’s meals, and rather than making a separate trip, she cleverly added her bag to the grocery list. That way, we can swing by Kroger on the way home and check that errand off without a fuss. Efficiency at its finest.
One small concern: my wife pointed out that lingering too long at my sister’s might not be the best idea, given their recent bout of illness. Fair point. Usually, my brother-in-law takes charge of the kitchen—he’s a fantastic cook and loves whipping up meals for any and all occasions. But this time, they’re playing it safe with Chinese takeout. As for dessert? That’s covered. I baked a cake yesterday, and it’s ready to steal the show.
Now, let’s talk about my wife’s relationship with time—she fills every minute of the day like it’s a carry-on bag that absolutely must fit in the overhead compartment. Even on a day like this, her schedule is packed. She’s up at an ungodly hour, claiming it makes her more productive. And honestly? It works. The woman does not stop—unless she’s ill (which is rare because she’s extra careful about germs, mostly for my sake). I, on the other hand, take a more… measured approach. I know exactly what I need to get done this weekend, and I’m confident it’ll all be wrapped up smoothly.
For now, though, the to-do list can wait. We’re off to celebrate, see the new house, and enjoy some cake. Priorities, right?