The highlight must have been Sunday morning. Paul made Grandma Kay's Waffles!
Paul heroically ate 2 1/2, while I just managed to finish about 1 3/4. Mine were, of course, smothered in Laura Scudders peanut butter and maple syrup, the way god intended.
I spent the rest of the time combing craigslist for a new place, and getting rather dejected.
The number of places that won't accept pets is disheartening, especially when you see what a dump half of them are (as if a fifteen y/o cat could make the place any worse), or that the landlord insists you not call them unless you have already given notice to your old landlord and are ready to move in RIGHT NOW. Like somehow being a dog or cat person is terrible, but being a dumbass who can't plan shit and/or has been forced out of their apartment on short notice makes you a great rental prospect.
I got myself into a big stinky project at work that will be very cathartic if and when it works out. It s a pain, but cleanup projects appeal to my compulsive nature. Like picking at a scab.
Today, my team celebrated our (belated) two-year teamiversary, and had Patxi's pizza and then checked out Vanilla Moon in San Carlos. I was impressed with their buttercream, not so fond of their cream cheese frosting. Clearly, further analysis is required.