My week is full of silly stuff like fixing the broken strut on the car and coloring my hair and taking kids to the doctor's.
Free of encumbrances, I would set off, brave explorer, for the wilds of Bay St Louis. I'd flip expertly through these pages and tag each Craftsman, Prairie, Double-Shotgun, Dog-Run, Queen Anne, Greek Revival house as I passed by.
Assuming no wild weather had set me from my path, I would take myself off for a cup of coffee, a toast to myself, a nod to no one in particular. "Merci, chere Bryn Mawr, de me permettre, enfin, de profiter de ma langue vernaculaire!"
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