When you leave the TV off all evening.

You cook your meals for the whole week, from three different world cuisines.
You take the dog for a run.
You do the groceries and cleaning.
You play the guitar.
You read.
You catch up with non-blogger friends.
You get to bed at a reasonable hour.

An afterthought: I know I should never feed her human food, but if I reward myself for the run with a little Cherry Garcia, shouldn’t Comet, for whom the run was probably four times as long, get some too?