in which I do nothing much, again

I spent the weekend doing a whole lot of not much, again. I know there's a line between doing not much because that's what I feel like doing, and doing not much because I'm stubbornly avoiding doing other things, and I'm not sure which side of the line I'm on lately. I should've spent most of yesterday outdoors, and I didn't.

So what am I avoiding? Spending money, mostly. I'm trying to remember that just because I finally paid off the credit card, that doesn't mean I should leap up and go spend a lot of money on new bookshelves (for instance). The "rich and famous" list has gone off into the "if I owned the place" list, because the last thing I need is more STUFF. What I do need is more places to put the current STUFF. (Hence the desire to buy bookshelves, but I don't need those as much as I need kitchen shelves.)

My leg has come up with the third-best bruise I've ever seen on anybody. I probably would've cracked my skull if my head had landed first. I think I'll take the bruise, thanks.