It's just after noon now, and already today I have made breakfast for my boyfriend and done some sewing. Not only did I make breakfast, I made *popovers* for breakfast. Unfortunately, I was distracted by scrambling eggs as I took them out of the oven and so didn't pierce them quickly enough to keep them from sagging over sideways and collapsing.
We dubbed them "flopovers". They're still good.
After breakfast (sausage, eggs, flopovers, and a fruit salad with strawberries, pineapple, and blueberries) I pegged the legs of a flare-legged suit I bought on sale. Then I cuffed them.
When the nice guy from the fire department showed up to inspect the sprinklers in the apartment, he found this domestic scene: David on the couch with a cup of coffee, reading an article Dad wrote about reindeer being sold for meat in the 1920's. The cat at his feet, purring. Me sitting at the kitchen table, hemming a pair of slacks.
Of course, twenty-four hours ago I was suffering with a sore throat and stuffy ear and general malaise. This sudden domesticity is probably just a symptom of the cold I've got.