It’s finally Friday night! Wooohoooo! Am I getting ready to go out to a club? Maybe meet up with friends at a bar? Go to the theatre? See a movie? Visit a gallery? Attend a fancy dinner party?

Nope.

While all that would have sounded awesome to 20-something me, 40-something me arrived home from work, picked up Guinness, went to the vet to have Guinness’ injured paw rechecked (all good!), came home, then put on battered plaid flannel pajama pants, a weathered Chefs for Farmers t-shirt, a tattered, but warm hoodie and fuzzy slippers. I’d stay all cozy like this all weekend if I could. Who knows, I just might. I’ve done it before. There’s really nothing better than that Friday night switch into lounge-y clothes to signal that the work week is over.

But in case you think I’ve settled in for an evening of sloth in front of the tv, glass of wine in hand, emptying out the DVR, you’ll need to think again.

You see, Bruce is sick with some kind of bug. He’s been feverish and achy all day long. He is no fun tonight and I’m leaving him and his germy self alone. He’s already announced that he’s going to bed by 9 (it’s 7:30) and suggested that I sleep in the guest room so I don’t get his cooties. Sounds good to me.

So I figure that now that I’m warm and comfy, I’ll take care of some of the “easy” stuff on my to-do list so that I’ll have less to do tomorrow. After all, I’m going to need to survey the urban farm and see what’s survived the deep freeze that’s happening around here. Potentially make a grocery store run. Definitely chase the dog hair tumbleweeds down with the vacuum. When you have 4 freely shedding large-ish beasts living under your roof, there’s always plenty of dog hair to fill up your weekends.

Speaking of my sweet shedders, the lazy Gs are all quite content. They’ve whiled away the day all cozy, snuggling a warm, sick human. They love sick days because they can get in their 20 hours of sleep pretty much uninterrupted by things like people coming and going. Even so they’re very happy to go to bed at 9 too.

Well, what will I do first on my big night in?

Looks like laundry is the clear winner. I’ve already got a load in the washer and one in the dryer. Doing laundry is great since once it’s in the machines, you can do other stuff, like shop. I needed to pick up birthday gifts, snow boots and snow pants. No need to get in the car and head to the mall. No need to be cold in the parking lot and too hot wearing a coat inside. The online stores are open 24-7 online and they gift wrap too. Done and done. Check and check.

Maybe it’s time to flip through a magazine or two while the laundry finishes up. A 9 pm bedtime seems might appealing all of a sudden. I don’t want to overdo it. Must not tax my immune system by doing too much and staying up too late!

The 20-something me (and probably the future 70-something me) laughs at my Friday night of domesticity and puttering. The 40-something me treasures the luxury of my Friday night with no plans and no demands. Isn’t it funny how things change?

But one thing that never gets old is the gratuitous dog photo of the day. Just look at these lazy hounds:

Gidget, Guinness, and George sleep the day away • photo by the flu-ish Bruce to amuse me while I was at work