That's why I benefited from howling at the moon last night while it rose, only to get home for my attempt (first attempt) of making maple bourbon pecan shortbread bars. The two World Cup games that went into penalty kicks (how's that for a memorable series) kept me entertained before I departed.
Epic fail. I think I made maple walnut bourbon pita chips. Not even close to what they should have been.
This morning, I'm meeting with my neighbor who moved to New Hampshire, then settling in for two more World Cup games and the NCAA Women's Volleyball Elite 8. Great day for sports on t.v. (and hoping I get it...yesterday's games were not available on my cable and I had to stream them from my computer - all that money for nothing).
Meanwhile, my knee is still full of fluid. It's no longer an orange; it is now a pear. The doctor said, "Oh, there's nothing wrong. Ice it and use arthritis cream and it will go down."
Um, okay.
I guess the Atlantic article about AI perfecting writing and putting all writing and English folks out of business is something to pay attention to -- if there's no longer work, perhaps I'll have plenty of time to sit around with nothing to do. It's definitely not been that way since I entered college and made a career out of writing instruction.
Hoping it's a chicken little scenario; we've heard the sky is falling many times before in our profession.
There are days I'd welcome the sky to fall.