An acquaintance retiled her bathroom. In a weekend. After taking a two-hour class at Lowe's. It kills me to admit this, but her bathroom looks sensational.
Older daughter assembled a large piece of furniture from IKEA for me without looking at the directions, which was fortunate since I'd wept all over them after failing to discern any difference between piece A and piece B, never mind piece C.
Hubs met a female colleague for a business lunch, and when he spilled marinara sauce on his white shirt, she whipped out a Tide To Go stain stick. Days later, we were having dinner in a neighborhood restaurant, and he spilled pesto onto his khakis. To his disappointment, I don't carry concealed stain-remover sticks.
A friend hiked a good chunk of the Pacific Crest Trail. When his compass failed, he guided himself to safety using his iPhone.
I have nothing but respect for the neighbors who re-landscaped their front yard so beautifully, you'd swear a crew of professionals had done the job, and I admire the friend who's teaching himself French via Rosetta Stone, but I'm feeling a little, well inferior.
You've done something lately that makes me appear incompetent/lackadaisical/cowardly in comparison. Did you take Cordon Bleu cooking classes? Whip up prom dresses for your daughter and her friends out of remnants? Build a set of outdoor furniture from felled trees? C'mon, confess. What have you been up to?