My Deeply Fascinating Chores List, A Paragraph

I am cat-sitting while people are in Canada and Georgia (the state, not the country); the deal involves a car. This weekend I ditched my old and fading (literally) CRT, donated books, donated clothes, had dinner with my aunt D, watched four episodes of Crest of the Stars (continuing my tradition of being behind and somewhat off the curve), breakfasted on farmer's market pickings, risked the Beltway and IKEA, assembled a Klingsbo side table and moved it outside - it is, incidentally, exactly what I wanted for my patio laptop table, though I have doubts about its winter hardiness - rediscovered the hazards of the Food Channel, fed cats, and oh yeah, did laundry. My arms hurt. Also, the Beltway is the only driving experience made more pleasurable by traffic jams (crazy at 40 mph or insane at 60+, take your pick). The last thing I did last tonight was to redo a couple of work/driving mixes that were pretty broken. Now they have Robbie Williams, Rob Thomas, Shakira and Run-DMC in a completely - okay, mostly - un-ironic fashion. And my arms still hurt.

Can I have a break from my weekend, please?

I am terrifically tempted to call in sick today, because I'm a slacker, but then I'd just surf the web, get bored, and my arms would still have deep-muscle pain from manhandling the baby laptop. So it's off to the races.

Incidentally, cars are the best toys ever. But you all knew that.