Wasted hours

Yesterday I was feeling like death warmed over, and I told my wife to make sure I got to be early. (I have a habit of puttering when I'm tired or depressed). After dinner, I put away the leftovers, loaded the dishwasher, checked my emails, made suggestions to my son on his dirigible designs, then said "I'm going to bed now."

My wife, who'd twice said we had to wrap thing things up early so I could go to sleep early, looked surprised. It wasn't even 7:30 yet.

But I put Saturday clothes out ...