Just a quick check-in tonight, as I’m now just about one-third of the way through this challenge.

The nice thing is that the routine is indeed a routine. Even with the day’s various issues, including completion of a surreply and dealing with a bathtub that simply Will Not Drain, the evening proceeded in its now-usual fashion. Dinner consisted of the last of the grilled chicken, accompanied by forbidden rice and carrots, with dessert comprised of the last of the ice cream, a cookie, and grapes, all while I watched the finale of season three of the Spring Baking Championship.

Charlotte was getting concerned as I sat on the sofa, watching television and eating grapes. I tried to explain that it wasn’t even nine-thirty, but apparently, her routine is that when I finish dinner—no matter how early or late that may be—it’s writing time. When I didn’t take my usual place in the recliner, she went ahead anyway, curling up on the back to wait for me. Once I’d seated myself and pulled up the footrest, she jumped down and ensconced herself between my thigh and the arm of the chair.