So it’s the end of the a weekend where the sun shined, it stayed lighter later than it has all year AND my house was full of cookies. I mean, what else do you want?

Plus, we are currently at 315 or so entries for the T-shirt giveaway I announced on Friday. If you still want to get in, it’s easy! Send an email to sarah at sarahdessen dot com with the word T-SHIRT in the subject line. Include your name, mailing address and shirt size in the body of the email. US residents only, please. We’ll stop accepting entries at midnight tonight and announce the winners tomorrow. (Ooh, I sound so official saying that. I NEVER get to sound official. I kind of like it.)

My husband was gone with racing-related stuff this weekend, so in the evenings, once the raucous toddler was down, I had the house to myself. This is a rarity, and I always do the same thing when it happens: I kind of whirl around, trying to figure out what to do first and end up doing nothing at all. Finally, though, I managed to calm down on Friday night, get my dogs calm as well (no small feat) and sat down to watch the Friday Night Lights finale. It was bittersweet, but oh, so good. I won’t go into spoilers but I will say that it was up there with Sex and The City and Six Feet Under as far as good series endings go. And yes, I cried. And then I rewound, watched again, and cried some more. It was better than therapy, I swear.

Also this weekend, I caught up on Grey’s Anatomy (which my husband also won’t watch) while doing something that I really shouldn’t admit, like, at all. Because it’s just so embarrassing that I spent a Saturday night doing it. But I am all about honesty here, so….okay, I was trying to learn how to fold a fitted sheet. By watching a video on YouTube over, and over, then practicing again and again during Grey’s. NERD ALERT. Oh, the shame. But this is a skill that has eluded me for, like ever, and I really, really want to learn how to do it. When we go to the beach and they drop off the linens for the house you can’t even TELL the fitted sheets from the flat ones, they are that perfect. Who DOES that? Well, not me, apparently. I do okay with the first part, folding one long corner up into the other. But then it all goes wrong. I can make it look okay IF I put it on the floor, but that kind of defeats the purpose, i.e. pretty sheet, covered in dog hair. ARRAUGH. I am determined not to give up, though, AND I have a backup plan. Ally Carter, fab YA author, has told me she is very good at folding fitted sheets and has promised a tutorial the next time we cross paths. So that’s what I’ll probably be doing in my downtime at BEA. Which is almost as embarrassing as spending my Saturday on the same task.

Why, oh, why, do I have this blog again? To shame myself? Or does it just seem that way sometimes?

Since I’m already in the shame spiral, though, I guess I have nothing to lose. So I’ll admit that this year, for Valentine’s Day, I told my husband not to buy me a present. I know, I know. Every girl wants jewelry or flowers, right? Well….this girl wants a new washer and dryer. And my husband does, as well. (We have super-cheap ones: our dryer is the type that whenever you empty the lint trap, lint flies EVERYWHERE. Plus, it keeps making this strange burning smell. Can’t be good.) So we agreed that we’d skip gifts for each other and put the funds towards a new set sometime soon. It’s not romantic, I know. But we’ve been married ten years, together a lot longer than that. I love him so much…and I also really love clean clothes that arrive without a fire risk or shedding lint all over me. And you have to admit, these new models are kind of sexy, as appliances go. I am thinking Samsung or LG. It’s not diamonds, sure, but diamonds can’t fluff my jeans just right. IF they could, though…..oh, it’s not even worth thinking about.

Finally, my friend Evan, who drives the car, has been trying to convince me to go out for a lap on the track with him. “It will be fun!” he says. “The readers would love to see you in the car!” Now, I am a cautious driver. I go slow, am mocked and hit the imaginary brake on my side all the time. So can you imagine if I was in the car this weekend when Evan spun out during qualifying? Just watching this video makes me feel sick:

I think I will just put a bobblehead with my picture on his dash and leave it at that.

Okay, time to let the dogs out (again) and get ready for a new week. The Grammys are on tonight, I’m making tacos for dinner and it’s 5:41 and still QUITE light outside. HOORAY!

Have a good night, everyone!