1.  I jumped back on the horse and made dinner Friday night. I’d taken a teeny break after burning the holy hell out of my hand last week.

2.  When I say “burning the holy hell” I mean pain beyond any level previously experienced in my kitchen. Apparently those other times when I grabbed a pan handle after it was in the oven I really only touched it, and the difference between touching and grabbing is the difference between shriek bad word/tap water/neosporin and shriek a really bad word/tap water/sobbing/tap water/neosporin/sobbing/ice for three hours/feel like hand’s on fire/neosporin/gauze wrap overnight. Plus a little more sobbing in the bathroom.

NOTE:  I should have believed WebMD the first time. Ice = bad. Bad, bad, bad. So very bad. My hand didn’t really start feeling better until around 9:00pm when BrightSide brought me a pan of cool water for soaking. There’s your PSA for today.

3.  Anyway, Friday night brought a dinner of salmon for three and steak for one because Bear’s a dedicated meatatarian. There were even parmesan carrots and a zoodle/onion sauté that turned out decent. Bonus moment was the squeals of delight when I sent our kids to the garage freezer for ice cream. (It may have been brought to my attention that I don’t keep fun stuff in the house anymore, and I can’t really argue with that. Except Friday. There was fun stuff on Friday.)

4.  Our neighborhood had a yard sale on Saturday morning. Talk about dropping the ball. They hand out an event schedule in January – January, for Pete’s sake – so I can’t even say we didn’t know about it, but I can definitely say it fell off our radar until around April 8th. That’s when the social committee (yes, there’s an actual committee) sent out the reminder.

5.  BrightSide and I agreed the house could use a good cleaning out. Preparation would be tight with only two weeks to go before the yard sale, though. Factor in that basketball tournament last weekend and I see now this was a bit of a pipe dream. Let’s just say we didn’t get our sh*t together, literally or figuratively.

6.  On the plus side, I got to sleep in on Saturday morning. Until nine o’clock. This was like happy cloud spa time for me.

7.  Saturday was when I got hardcore serious about this couch cushion.

7a.  My face-to-face friends know I’ve been battling a cushion since the dog puked on it four weeks ago. I suppose technically she puked all over my foot, which just so happened to be on our couch.

7b.  Our leather couch.

7c.  This is why we can’t have nice things.

8.  I cleaned up the vomit (obviously) but there’s a lingering odor ruining my favorite couch spot. It’s the faintest hint of ick…just enough to trigger horrible memories of slimy canine upchuck running down my instep. Excuse me while I choke back a gag reflex.

9.  So on Saturday I scrubbed the cushion with leather cleaner, dumped a box of baking soda over it, and vacuumed that up once it had dried. Then I made a water/baking soda paste and slathered it on to sit overnight.

10.  Come Sunday the paste had dried and vacuumed up easily. Good news: at the moment all I smell is damp leather and baking soda. Bad news: the stain’s pretty bad. Now I guess we’ll wait and see if this leather conditioner is the miracle worker it claims to be.