Fudge Day was magnificent.
In order, these were the things I did:
*Waved farewell to Husband and two Boys as they left the House on the Corner in their patriotic shirts at 7:15 a.m. Also answered the question "Are you really going back to bed?" with a non-guilty "Quite possibly," although I did not go back to bed.
*Attended an artsy-craftsy-outdoorsy-autumny class (shown above) and glued things to a pumpkin. It was delightful although I had no illusions that my efforts were either art or a craft.
poor little toe was too much stress, so I did my own "pedicure." The color I chose out of my meager stock of polishes turned out looking like Creamsicle chalk paint and made me remember why this bottle was still full, so I immediately threw it in the trash. De-stuffifying!
*Between these activities I read, I played the piano for a ladies' luncheon at church, I watched two movies that had been in my Netflix queue for months and months (Enchanted April and Quartet) and I topped up my English accent. (I say...did you come a cropper?)
*Then my 'Cats came so, so close to a fabulous upset and since I'm from the days of the longest losing streak in college football history, I count these as moral victories and I smiled and went to bed.
And the next day when I got up, Husband and the Boys were home (having acquired a bonus Boy during the process) and all was back to normal again. Fudge Day was a treat, but a house full of clomping feet and toilet seats left up? That's even sweeter.