- The alarm goes off at 5:30, but I’m enjoying the wide open mattress far too much to get up. I doze until 7, cocooning in the blankets, using all the pillows, smelling his skin on the sheets.
- You always know when you set the price too low.
- She’s got a playdate with one of her favorite grownups. I want to use those precious hours for writing, but I’ll probably waste them on chores. The urgent wins out over the important so often.
- Where are those vows?
- Aaaaaaand they’re off.
- She’s lied about it so often that I can’t trust her words or my instincts. Playdate cancelled. Break out the Lysol.
- At least I don’t feel bad about cleaning instead of writing.
- I don’t want to go. I want to stay home, finish cleaning, have a chill night and a shower—not drive two hours with no podcasts. I don’t even have what I’m supposed to take. But I promised. So we go.
- “Momma, can you imagine…?”
- Mildly grateful I got the hiccups in the car and had to drink my leftover iced coffee at 8:30pm, otherwise those dishes would still have been there in the morning.
Of tummy bug fakeouts, stepping off, and nonsense storytime.