I find that guilty pleasures are not just the brownies you make and eat half of, right out of the pan; not just the random hooky day from work with a dear friend or lover; not just the decadent splurge on something purely luxurious, like bubble bath or hardcover books. I find myself feeling guilt at taking pleasure in chores well done, days of productivity, and a clean house. The pleasure seems almost illicit - i'm not supposed to like doing these things; often i don't. But once in a while, they feel good, satisfying, and downright pleasing. I had a day like that today.

After planting new green things in our herb garden yesterday, we "planted" some beer traps for the snails. This morning, there were no less than four snockerdly drowned in one can. Watered the plants. Picked up the living room. Restored the kitchen to a lovely clean state. (We've been awful in it the last few days.) The sun inspired me to peer through seasonally organized cookbooks in the spring sections. Cleaned out the refridgerator. Ate leftovers for lunch. Did a slew of laundry (though it's not yet conqured). Paid the bills, and put them in the mail. (I'm a freak. I like writing checks, when i'm unhurried. Maybe it comes from liking fountain pens. And i love the new name - seeing it on checks, signing it, the works.) Walked to Lucca and the veggie store. Made a tasty dinner (Asparagus pesto with tiny potatoes, pancetta and orichiette with caesar salad), refilled the beer traps, and cleaned up.

Now i'm sipping a glass of wine, realizing what a lovely day i had, and that i thoroughly enjoyed myself.

(Beca should be proud to know that in addition to all of this, since we got up a 9, i also spent 3 hours finishing a book, and a couple of hours watching a goofy Jackie Chan kung fu flick. Power to the early risers!)

It's with little guilt, though, that i head downstairs to dedicate the rest of my evening to Black & White.