So all that to say that today is Day 4. I may have skipped a day of work, but overall I'm sticking pretty close to my writing schedule, something that was aided by Kiddo's teacher, who gave me the day off from kindergarten volunteering today. (YAY!!!) Don't get me wrong -- I adore those sweet kiddos -- but some days it just feels like trading in your one child (work enough on her own) for twenty-two kids with the same questions, ploys, tactics. (Who knew so many children shared that annoying habit of pretending not to know answers to their work in order to, I don't know, get out of work? assert a measure of control? see if they can make steam come out of my ears? It's a mystery, but one I don't feel led to investigation on a large scale most days. ) So I'm grateful that it's nearly eleven thirty, and I'm not on my way to being sneezed on, stepped on, and otherwise assaulted by kindergarten germs. To Kiddo's teachers: I salute you. I praise you. You are tops. You win all the awards in my book.
But for now, you'll have to settle for these homemade paper flowers.
Aside from my strict writing schedule, life continues on much as it usually does. We're still a one-car family temporarily, though the past two weeks have been a blissful relief as some friends allowed us the use of their vehicle when they were out of town. I still have to sit through gymnastics today and sit with "the moms," pretending like I have even the vaguest idea of what's going on or what constitutes appropriate waiting area conversation. (So far, it seems like the list includes: gymnastics, PTA, clothes shopping, comparing kid stories. Basically, I'm screwed.) Still find myself avoiding as much political news as possible (for the sake of my own sanity.) Still avoiding most American television. Still reading, though I've been rewarding myself with lighter-than-usual fare in hopes of lifting my spirits, which haven't exactly been floating sky-high recently. It's difficult to maintain one's gloomy demeanor when one is reading PG Wodehouse. I mean, I can't imagine Jeeves would approve of sulking (though passive-aggressive facial expressions might be tolerated/encouraged.)
Though I like to think he'd approve of my choice of hot beverage.
For now though, I'm back to B&N with my hot tea (no London Fog today) and Hamilton in my earbuds trying desperately to drown out the abysmal (and frankly, puzzling) music they've got cranked in the cafe. And in case, you're not yet impressed by my self-control and discipline, I'd like to point out that they now have the new #Hamiltome in stock, and I didn't immediately buy it and ditch my work. I am a regular ascetic.
Absolutely no plan for how I'm going to get out of here without buying this.
I imagine I'll finish the super-short Wodehouse tonight, so now comes the tricky task of deciding what to read next. Not sure I'm ready to dig back into heavy-duty fiction yet, so I may pick up one of my Mother's Day gifts.
I'm going to keep it short today. Blog less, write more, write like I'm running out of time, and any other clumsy Hamilton references you can think of. #WORK!