1. I sprang out of bed at 7:00 this morning, gulped down a cup of coffee too fast, fought off a resultant coughing spell, moved the Camry out of the garage, backed the Sube up to the garage door, and loaded it up with our eight winter tires. I buzzed the tires down to Silver Valley Tire Center, walked home, leapt into the Camry, rocketed it down to Silver Valley Tire, and walked back home. A couple of hours later, Jeremy called. The guys at Silver Valley Tire had finished putting the winter tires on both cars. I walked down, paid, blasted home in the Sube, put the summer tires back in the garage, and walked back to the shop to pick up the Camry, and I bolted back home, this morning's tire task completed.
2. I continued getting this and that done around the house and, a little later in the afternoon, I got out two glasses, filled them with ice, and into each I poured some silver tequila, orange juice, limeade, and a splash of 7Up. It was a quasi-margarita, I guess, but whatever it was, Debbie and I agreed, it was a tasty cocktail.
Debbie crushed Great Harvest croutons into crumbs, used them to top our leftover goulash along with chopped green onions, and we enjoyed diving back into Monday night's dinner. Debbie also cooked some veggies in the glaze leftover from Thursday night's HelloFresh pork chop dinner, an ingenious and delicious idea.
3. It had been months, before tonight, since Debbie and I watched Monk, but we returned to the show tonight and watched two episodes -- in one, Monk gets fired by the haughty and arrogant police commissioner and in the other, Monk agrees to work undercover with a local organized crime kingpin.
Monk was awesome in both episodes, but I thought, in the end, the emotional heart and courageous soul of both stories was Monk's nurse, Sharona.
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