Having been to Urgent Care with Bobo three out of four Sundays recently, I have a whole theory about timing. This is a hard-won theory, and I spent a lot of time in line and waiting (plus co-pays) to learn and develop this theory for you. So, you don't have to. And here it is: Get there two minutes before they open or 2 hours after (most certainly, do not arrive 15 minutes after opening).
Tomorrow I turn 34, but I feel 28-at-heart. I've felt 28 for about fifteen years now. I don't look 34, whatever it is 34 looks like. I look 28. Tomorrow also marks my 12th anniversary in Heavy Industrial Manufacturing. I started my first job out of college on my 22nd birthday. I felt 28, at the time.
At my college orientation welcome speech, I heard a term that I still remember (and still think is fake): ethnography. Hee hee. I giggle just thinking about someone getting a degree in that and then not being able to get a job.
I hung out in an igloo on Saturday. In my front yard. Hilarious.
We did gym class on Saturday morning at 8:15 am, and there was a t-ball game and kids running to 3rd base or the pitchers mound instead of 1st and one kid who just wandered to the other side of the gym in the middle of the game. And kids who hit the tee and the ball fell off and all the parents are yelling “Run to first” (and since the kids are wee, we’re all standing next to the bases and in the game to try and keep things moving in the more-or-less right direction). Like herding cats, that.
I set my alarm last night for the first time since April 1st, and I was totally surprised when it went off. Disoriented. I usually sleep until I wake up (or someone wakes me). But today is Presidents’ Day so Mr. Long-Suffering is home with the kids since it is Professional Development Day at the day care.
It is becoming ever so slightly obvious to me that I might perhaps be a morning person. It’s really quite disgusting. I know for sure that I am not a night owl, but I always pictured myself as someone who does their best work between 10 am and 2 pm.
Chuckles had to write out Valentines for all the kids in his kindergarten class. We got a class list with his homework packet, so I assumed it was a handwriting assignment. He ended up changing his name to Chip (because it's shorter). But he did all 20 of them (plus three extras To: Chip, From: Chip so he could have some Backugan Valentines for himself). Apparently, I was mistaken since only 3 or 4 of the Valentines Chip received in return were written by the other kids (and only 2 of those had a name in the "To" line). It took two weeks to get it done, but he did it and I am proud of Chip. Whoever this Chip kid is.
I feel bad when I don't post, but then I feel worse when I post this kind of dreck. However, you get that for which you pay, which is a long and grammatically correct way of saying: The End.