I am a lazy slob.

I had all the best intentions of finishing assembling the bookshelf I started on yesterday. But it's 7:38 pm and I haven't done any of it. Or, I should say, I haven't done any more of it. Of course, I wouldn't have to do it at all if my husband hadn't moved the old bookcase up to our bedroom, leaving a bunch of orphaned books and knick knacks on our couch that now need a new home. I spent just about the entire day reading a romance novel. I don't know if I've ever mentioned it before, but I read romance novels...a lot. I've always enjoyed them, and I know as an "educated" woman I'm supposed to be embarrassed about that, but I really don't care. I like 'em. In particular, I like historical romance, primarily set during Regency Era England. Mainly because I like Jane Austen...a lot. I have to confess what threw me off my construction plans, though, was daylight savings time. After I'd come out of the shower this morning, preparing to got to 12:15 mass (the last mass of the day), my husband came up the stairs and asked, "What did we forget to do?" I thought he was talking about going to 10:30 mass because he'd said that's what he wanted to do, so I said I hadn't forgotten, just figured we'd only get it together in time for 12:15 mass as usual. Then he asked, "No, what did we forget to do that involves time?" And then I remembered daylight savings and realized 12:15 mass was 30 minutes away and that we'd never make it in time, so we missed mass. Once I knew we'd missed mass, I figured the day was already blown to hell, so I'd just read my book. Despite the change in plans, I can't complain.