I feel very, very guilty.

Hubs had surgery last week on his foot. There was cutting, of course, but also there was sawing and screwing. Basically, they made him an arch. Gross. Painful. And I am now playing Dobby to his Harry Potter. Which is fine; I've only wanted to smack him a handful of times. I guess sometimes I'm Kreacher.

So he's been living on the couch with his foot elevated and various Netflix programs running for about 12-18 hours a day. Sure, I've kept the kitchen clean and done laundry, but what else do I do? I do not knit. I do not do the Egret Effects taxes that I don't know how to do. I sit and watch episodes of Futurama, all of which I've seen, or episodes of Anthony Bourdain's "No Reservations," which I don't even like.

I'm seriously going to consider giving up TV for lent next year. It's obviously too late this year because lent has already begun. And obviously I need my Catholic guilt to motivate a change that is otherwise unthinkable. And obviously I know that giving things up for lent is not necessarily as important as doing extra things for the good of the world and/or the soul...does caring for a baby count?

For now there is still the guilt over the taxes.