My shoe is off, my foot is cold

Warning: Kvetch ahead.

“My shoe is off. My foot is cold. I have a bird I like to hold.”
― Dr. Seuss, One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish

Welllll, my shoes--or at least my nice shearling slippers--are on, and I have no bird, but my feet ARE cold. VERY cold. ICY cold.

Also I still have the many things of importance to do from yesterday, only I first have to deal with my regular Sunday chores: Cleaning out my email junk folder(s). Paying my bills and filing my things-to-file. Figuring out what bills my parents need to pay, get the checks ready for signatures, and file their things-to-file. Cleaning out our humidifiers--that involved much water and bleach and swishing, poking corners with q-tips dipped in bleach, more water and swishing--in short, a mess, but a necessary one, because if I skip a week, they start growing pink slime. Changing sheets. Preparing my very wonderful mother's homework sheets (she teaches first grade, and feels she needs fancy homework sheets, all typed up, with pictures).

"My shoe is off, my foot is cold, and now my story is all told."

(Crossposted to LiveJournal.)

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