Last night we made margaritas (yum, yum; equal parts silver tequila, key lime juice, and grand marnier) and Robert made pizza.
He's the best husband in the world; I was totally bent out of shape b/c I had spent about 15 hours in the MRC working on a DVD clip project and something went awry in the compression process and the DVD looked like SHIT and hung up (I ended up having to take the DVDs to class and do lots of scrolling and rewinding. Very unprofessional and unimpressive use of technology in the classroom, and as far as I'm concerned technology in the classroom can suck it.
Anyway, he made whole-wheat crust and fresh basil and heirloom tomatoes and olive oil and roasted garlic (no sauce) and it was GOOD. And the margaritas made me feel better, and then I watched Time Bandits. (I will be paying for this indulgence later; I have a paper due Wednesday and a presentation Friday that I should have been working on but wasn't.)
And then we had chocolate ice cream, and went to bed. And Jamie had allergies and was sad, and Leslie was all buzzy from the margarita, and was doing everything very slowly and carefully.