A Sunday Evening

I'm sitting here at the kitchen counter on a bar stool.

Boyfriend is cooking pork chops, Pasta Roni, and heating up some apple sauce.

I made a green salad and set the table.

I'm relaxing after working my shift as a PNC today, running errands, and coming home to clean house and do laundry.

Only to find that I apparently do not have a toilet bowl scrubber anymore.

On the list for tomorrow because that just can't happen.

Boyfriend cleaned up the garage a bit, and unloaded the trailer of his stuff he brought over.  He worked on his grandma's car and made sideboards for his truck if we use it to get wood.

An old co-worker of ours from the wedding rental place brought us some wood this evening. It wasn't the type of wood he thought, nor as much, but we paid him for his time and hard work.

Ran into an old family friend at work this weekend and they offered us lots of free wood. Have to look into what they have.

There's a fire roaring in the fire place.

Charley, whom we are dog-sitting while my parents went camping this weekend, is on her bed, near the fire place, basking in her vacation.

We are spoiling her rotten. Lots of scraps and letting her in the house. Which, according to our landlord, really isn't allowed, but he's not here. And at worst there will be some dog hair on the carpet which I will vacuum up.

So I will rest my weary legs, sit in my recliner for a bit (once dinner is cleaned up and laundry done). 

Next to me will be Boyfriend, resting his weary feet. Probably snoring away.