In, doing the grading I would have done yesterday if I hadn't gone shopping. (But really, shopping on a Saturday afternoon - which is what it would have been - is not fun where I live. Way, way too many people, half of whom are on an "outing" and don't care whether they block or dawdle in the aisles, the other half who are bent on getting home before the game starts and who don't care WHO they knock down in order to do it...)

I also need to clean house, which makes me twitchy about sitting here grading. I find I've become VERY defensive of my "free time" and it bothers me to be doing "not fun" things in the limited amount. (So much so that I'm bargaining with myself over what it would take for me to do the soon-to-be-absolutely-necessary yardwork this afternoon after I finish cleaning house. I hate edging, although not quite enough to pay $40 a pop for someone to do it for me).

I did do some cleaning this morning but the "obvious" parts of the house got derailed because I felt the need to clean my refrigerator. Why? I fantasize that when people come over to my house, for some reason someone will jump up to get more water or juice or something before I can do it and they'll see my grotty fridge, and I'll be a social outcast forever. (Normally, I clean the fridge - in the sense of pull everything out, wash down all the glass surfaces, get rid of any mystery stains - about twice a year, before my mom comes and visits. No, she's not one of those flylady uberhousekeeper types herself, but somehow, I think that her seeing that my fridge is sparkly clean is somehow my way of reassuring her that I've not gone totally feral, living by myself).

I probably should do the freezer, too, in case someone goes for ice cubes. Sigh.

The fridge took me about 45 minutes, what with pulling out all the glass shelves (yeah, I see the reason for the shelves in a fridge being clear, but it makes cleaning much worse and spills much more visible) and washing them all down, then going through the stock of jams and salad dressings and such and deciding which get voted off the island...I had a bottle of russian dressing in there that I think I had when I moved to this house, three years ago...

So I still have to sweep and scrub the kitchen floor (oh, ugh), and clean the bathroom (also, ugh). I have to pick up and put away stuff in the living room and then dust and sweep there, and dust and sweep the dining room, and also sweep the funny little mid-house hallway that connects all the rooms. My bedroom and the guest bedroom, I'm closing the door on those. But I do have clothes to put away.

I also should mow and should do the dreaded edging, and really should weed the front flowerbeds.

What I'd really rather be doing is curling up with my new love, the Song of Hiawatha shawl. (Added a few more rows during the rather-depressing season premiere of Joan of Arcadia last night. So is the theme this season going to be rejecting God even though He's practically hitting you upside the head with a cannoli? Gah. And Grace and Luke snogging? So don't want to see it.)