Sunday's Child is Full of Grace

Just so we're clear, I was not born on a Sunday.  Saturday, actually.  And I guess it's Tuesday's child is full of grace.  Sunday's child is....well, here is what Mother Goose said:

Monday's child is fair of face,
Tuesday's child is full of grace;
Wednesday's child is full of woe,
Thursday's child has far to go;
Friday's child is loving and giving,
Saturday's child works hard for its living;
But the child that is born on the Sabbath day
Is bonny and blithe, and good and gay. 

So I guess I will work hard for my living.  That's okay, because I do actually like to work.  Love, love to work.  As in, I neglect cleaning for a full month and then I clean, because it's a lot harder work doing it that way.  Well, actually it's more like...when no potential men are around, messiness will abound (ha ha, my own rhyme). 

I am expecting a visitor this week Tuesday, of the handsome black man variety, and I'm looking forward to it.  So I am cleaning my condo.  I suppose it's the polite thing to do, even though he will not see it.  I'm not sure why I'm bothering, though.

So I began my Sunday with the obligatory noon awakening, followied by coffee and taking out the recycling before yoga (which was really amazing today, by the way).  I really love my yoga teacher.  She happens to be a close friend too, but that does not bias me.  I would not be back week after week if I didn't love it.  I'm just that way.  

I fell flat on my Mexican Ass (as I affectionately call my shapely size 6 derriere) while closing the gate to the parking lot and later stabbed myself in the hand with the business end of a knife whilst cutting potatoes (quick recipe: cut yukon gold potatoes; mix 1 TBSP each of ancho chile powder, New Mexico chile powder and Laury's seasoning salt; pour on a little olive oil and sprinkle on the mix and stir around til covered, then bake at 425 F for 20-30 minutes, depending how you like your potatoes).  I guess this is how excited I am to have someone handsome hang out with me.  Also, I really like just listening to his voice.  And he thinks it's cute when I drink and then I'm really flirty and Ms. Chatty Cathy.  But all that aside, we are just friends.  

One fall, a knife stabbing (what else would you stab with--oh, maybe a pen if a knife wasn't handy), yoga and a two and a half hour meeting later...here I am, dreading the "cleaning."  Which actually is much needed.  After the ex-man-boy and I decided to part ways, I guess I got a little lazy.  But now, my house is smelling like a various assortment of cleaners.  And now I'm hungry, but it's 10:13pm and I wonder if I should dirty my kitchen (which is only half clean at the moment).  The Council of Cats says yes, because it will go well with my $4 cheap white wine.  And I always listen to the Council of Cats.  I stay up late usually, anyways, so I guess having dinner at 10:45 won't hurt anything.

In other news, I got to go salsa dancing this weekend, as well as dancing at some other club where some young bloke in sunglasses (yes, in a dark club, sunglasses) tried to grab me and make me dance with him.  I'm not sure if it's just his thing to like grabbing a girl a third his size and force her to dance with him while she shoves him away repeatedly and hits him with her tiny fists, but lemme tell you blokes like that out there...next time...I'm kneeing you in the balls.  Like I do when you try to pick me up because I'm so tiny.

Goodness, I love being me.  Bring it on world.  I shall conquer you.