Perfect Sunday

I hate not having anything to do and when I have an entire day filled with activities, it's perfection. But then I get home and I'm flat out beat.

Today was sunshiney and warm, perfect backdrop for perfect Sunday, but I can hardly muster the energy to tap on the keys. I got up and cleaned. That's the antidote to a packed day -- coming home to a clean house.

Sara and I played tennis, and although I was leading a set, she had me beat 1-5 in the second set. But we had to call the match because we had to go to Scottie and Julia's BBQ. We did that, and played Baggo and ate brats and had a good time. Then we had to go to softball. We didn't really show up to play today, and lost to the Bandits. That's OK, we still had fun, as we always do. Then we went over to Brownstone, our sponsor bar, to watch the Bears game. Da Bears spanked the feathers of dem Hawks. Is this heaven?

Then I had to ride my bike home with plenty of 312, wings, quesadillas, chips and queso, chicken tenders and pretzels in me. Thinking about it makes me want to throw up, almost.

And on that note, beddie bye. I'm worn out.