I feel boring right now so I don't blog.
Whadja do today?
Oh, I . . . worked.
Took the kid to piano.
Thought about doing something other than work. Decided that would be a bad idea.
Worked some more.
It's a phase. I see a slight lull in the action right before Thanksgiving. That will help. Getting paid for all this work and being back in the black will help.
Hey, you know what helped? My aunt sent me a care package. It had one of Max's shirts and some of his bionicle pieces. It had a science unit I'd left there. It had a brand new pair of socks that she must have decided were mine. They weren't but at the time I couldn't find where my socks had gone and I was standing there, opening the box, with cold feet. So I put them on and wore them every day for four days in a row (found my socks, finally, in Max's sock drawer). There were four skeins of cotton dishcloth yarn (she loves me, clearly) and a beautiful calendar that my grandmother gets me every year and which never ceases to make me feel like a grown up. Only her daughters get the calendars.
You know, I don't have one aunt that I don't want to be like in some way. Or am not already like in some way. There are elements in Caroline, Connie, Charlotte, GeeGee, and Kay that I would very much like to see in a description of me some day. That can't be bad.
Where was I? Oh yes, the care package. So that really made my week and I've been sitting here, trying to convince myself to start working again and instead all I keep doing is letting my eyes drift over to that dishrag cotton.
But then I think if I'm not going to work, I should clean. And if I'm not going to clean, I should round up the kids and put them to bed, and if I'm not going to do any of that, I should work. Or at least, for heaven's sake, get out the needlepoint stocking and see if you can't finish THAT this year.
I guess I'll go clean and put the kids to bed.