Sunday seems like a good day to catch up on my week as well as an easy way to get myself to write something. I'm trying to get back into the habit of writing at least a little bit regularly.
So what was my week like?
I worked last Sunday then rushed home to meet the kids and get them fed. I think I was actually off early and didn't rush, but the previous sounds better.
I also worked Monday and Tuesday, didn't get off early, and did rush home. Wednesday I was off, and we've already discussed that night and the beer intake. Let's not stir that dead horse.
The trouble started around this time as well, but I didn't know until Thursday night at work, and didn't know the extent till Friday. I'm not saying anything right now because social media could be my downfall, but I have a week worth of unpaid vacation as of Friday.
I again didn't rush home, but didn't go and drink either, though the thought did cross my mind more than once, and it would generally be my answer to this sort of issue. I guess perhaps I am getting better at this thing. Instead I washed away my sorrow at the coffee shop with coffee and a house made salted Nutella pop tart.
Then I came home and cleaned up a little bit and didn't really do much else but wait for the kids to show up.
Finally yesterday I hung out with the kids. I wished all day that they felt better so that I could make them get out on bikes with me, but Big Brother has been beset with the worst cough lately. The boys and I are sharing a wonderful cold, though we do all seem to be on the mend. The Boy's worst days were all red eyes and sneezing and itchy throat, while Big Brother just can't seem to beat the cough.
Supper last night was spaghetti and meatballs which I cooked specifically for The Boy knowing that he'd love meatballs. He's mentioned it before, but meatballs take a little advance planning. The sauce was one of the best I've made, and I attribute that to cooking the meatballs in the sauce. Also chicken stock.
And of course he ate everything but the meatballs. He also doesn't eat onions or green peppers, but I make sure not to even put them in his bowl. He said they tasted like meatloaf, and since he doesn't like meatloaf he didn't like the meatballs. You gotta love that kid.
And now it's Sunday. They were up in time for their ride to church, and I am now up as well. I've actually been awake since right before they started stirring, but knowing I didn't have to get up I didn't. Of course once they were gone I realized I wasn't going to fall back asleep at that point, so here I am, two hours later, filling myself with coffee and nicotine. Why can't I do that for a living?
I suppose if I actually keep on top of this blog and throw in some whiskey then I can call myself a writer at some point. Isn't that how it works?