This weekend was definitely not what we expected, since Ryan started feeling bad on Friday after two nights of sleeping poorly. And when he registered a 101.5 fever, we decided to cancel our plans and spend the weekend resting up.
Dear Thermometer, You really should be waterproof. How else am I supposed to sterilize you if I don't have any Lysol wipes in the house?
Dear Dad, Thanks for the label maker. I'll try to refrain from labeling everything in the house.
Dear Taxes, You were on the agenda for this weekend, but you (and the promised donuts) will just have to wait.
Dear Couchbed, Ryan and I have missed you since moving into our little yellow house. But we definitely weren't expecting to camp out on you Friday night (and all weekend) when Ryan felt too weak and dizzy to push the mattress back upstairs.
(For those of you wondering, couchbed is the phenomenon that occurs when you push the couch and the loveseat into each other. It's perfect for movie night, but in this house our loveseat is upstairs. So this time, we brought our mattress downstairs and put it in front of our couch, using the couch as a headboard.)
Dear Cowboys, Thanks for trying. At least we got farther this year than last year, right?
Dear Chickafila, Thank you for coupon calendars. You've been a lifesaver this weekend since cooking for one just seems pointless. And I forgive you for being closed on Sundays, even though I always forget and get so excited.