Nothing, I am retired. I'm supposed to be doing whatever strikes my fancy. Everyday is Saturday. I guess I should be taking my mid-afternoon nap, but eh, that can wait.
I'm not hoping they call me on a mission or singing praise to the man. Nor am I lengthening my stride so that I may feast on tender mercies. I'm not spending any time doubting my doubts but I would be okay if someone were at home making donuts!
Vacuuming, sorting closets, cleaning the bathrooms, yard work and now that we can where I live, meeting friends at a coffee shop...oh wait, that one I make time for!
Sleeping, cleaning, finishing some project that sounded like a good idea at the time. Writing my COVID letters. <-- Yes, they are a thing. I bought proper stationary and proper writing instruments, and I was good and didn't buy India ink and nibs and stuff. I have some self-control. And I thought, "I'm going to write proper letters to people, especially people I haven't communicated with for a bazillion years. They won't be creeped out by me finding their new address on the internet. And I'm positive that they will be happy to hear from me...wait. Why did we stop talking? Oh, right. They might not want to hear from me."
I also need to work out the kink in my plan for world domination.