I was feeling a little jealous of all the folks who got to attend BlogHer this weekend, but really, my life is way more exciting than all of that. Who needs a conference full of funny, cool women when they could just BE ME instead?? I am my own entertainment, baby. All excitement, all the time.

Wooooooooooooooo!

I’m on fire, I tell you. Stand back.

Take today, for example. I woke up to the rhythm of driving rain (again), but that wouldn’t affect my plans. No sir. I had important things to do.

First, there was the sleeping. I don’t like to brag, but I’m sort of elevating sleeping to an art form. It’s a passion of mine. After many, many weeks of consistent insomnia and sleep deprivation, I’m now back to my true calling as a lazy slug. Sleep, glorious sleep. My one true love. And I’m just so darn good at it, so really, it works out all around and you know how happy it makes me when things come together like that.

Next–it being a Sunday without the kids and all–it was imperative that I watch meaningless television and putter around online. I found myself putting forth an impressive showing in Yahoo! Literati, spelling things like “er” and adding an “s” to an existing word and the like. Meanwhile, my partner was regularly spelling things like “vestibular” and managing to somehow score upwards of 30 points with 2 strategically placed tiles, so that was nice. For her.

Sometime in the afternoon I decided to tackle some cleaning. I started with all the usual things: dishes, wiping down the kitchen counters, casing the house for stray pop-tart wrappers. I thought about putting away the clean laundry, but opted not to get crazy or anything. No one’s out of underwear yet, you know.

After a couple of passes through the dining room, I decided it was probably time to do something about the water damage on the ceiling. I hopped up on a chair and felt around the stain. Nice and dry. I should probably try some bleach. But ewwww, bleach. Maybe I could avoid that. Oh! I know! Mr. Clean Magic Eraser!

[I heart Mr. Clean Magic Erasers. I have no idea how people lived without them. There used to be entire books on how to remove stains from various surfaces; an entire industry based on the secrets of hairspray for removing crayon from walls and whatnot. Now? One little white rectangle suitable for removing the paint from your car. Progress is a beautiful thing.]

It turns out that Magic Erasers will wipe the mildew right off of a textured ceiling. It also turns out that a textured ceiling will shred a Magic Eraser into tiny bits. Therefore, it is VERY IMPORTANT to remember to keep your mouth closed while scrubbing the stain. *ptooey* *blech* I’m just sayin’.

For dinner I grilled a steak. Just because. Well, just because I’ve lost twelve pounds and today I was actually hungry. Plus, I was celebrating. My upcoming vacation has been figured out, scheduled, and booked. I did that today, too. First there was the “well when are you available” and “well when can you come” and “oh for the love of God we could do this all day and never accomplish anything, just PICK SOMETHING” conversation, followed by my telling the nice lady at the airline that she is SO VERY PRETTY for changing my ticket for about $15, rounded out by a double-pronged peer pressure campaign against another friend to GET HER ASS ON A PLANE, which–I later found out–was successful.

[HINT ABOUT MY PLANS WHICH IS NOT A HINT AT ALL BUT CRACKED ME UP BECAUSE MY GOSH I AM WITTY AND IT WAS ACTUALLY PART OF THE TRAVEL PLANNING CONVERSATION: “Ice cream? Who needs ice cream? Have some more celery. Mmmmm… fibrous!”]

My first instinct was to jump up and down and scream YAY! like a little girl. That was fun, too. But the steak was also nice!

And to wrap up my day, I decided to be a Great Mama and bake for my lovely children who picked eleventy tons of berries yesterday. I rummaged through my pantry and eventually settled on blueberry oat bran mini-muffins. I mixed and poured and popped them into the oven. The scent wafted out and I felt downright domestic and nurturing and not at all like someone just trying to use up all those berries. When the timer dinged, I pulled them out and realized that I’d forgotten something.

Blueberries tend to explode when you bake them.

I knew even before I tried to remove them from the pan that I’d just baked up a beautiful tray of 24 mini purple rubber cement pucks. Whoops. When the kids came home, I let Chickadee dig one out and eat it. (“Mama, this is yummy, but sort of messy,” she commented.) The rest, minus the one she ate and the one I mangled? Are still stuck in the pan. But the kitchen smells great.

Probably I should get to bed. It’s hard work, being me. Don’t be fooled by the glamour.