It’s raining here, and it’s been raining just about all day, and just about all day I’ve been hoping for some sort of reprieve so that I can sit at home and vegetablate instead of having to wait in the rain for soccer practice to be over. Every hour, call the hotline-- “All Fields Open.” Ugh.

But, the kids have fun, and if I were at home I’d just be doing stuff like our taxes and laundry and spraying for the gigantic wasps that have decided the garage door is just the place to hang out and play. Luckily tomorrow there will be no heavily laden trips across town and back—both of the kids’ games are at our park. Of course, the games are several hours apart, which means two separate trips.

Up early, get dressed, dress Boy, run to park, come back, spray weeds, change weed-killer saturated overalls, take a shower, get redressed in different overalls, find tax forms, find receipts, find good calculator, find pencil, find pen, get Girl to go dress herself, run to park, come back, throw everything on the kitchen table in the floor, start doing taxes, tell kids to not bother Daddy as he fulfills his civic duty, wonder about the nature of the universe, forget to carry my two, fill in Box 16(b) incorrectly, mumble incoherently as Wife tells me to move my lardybutt out of the way so she and the kids can eat supper—Supper!? That late already?!—move papers, scrape food off, lose good calculator, find toy one that works, begin again, finally figure out mistake on Box 16(b), kiss kids goodnight—Good Night!?—start filling out the real tax forms in ink, turn on TV, watch the news, drink the last of the 3 liter Diet Coke using one of the kid’s sippie cups, get up to stretch, wander outside to the back yard, decide to put lid back on compost bin that got blown off in storm, get lost in weeds, turn up weeks later, dirty and disheveled, clutching a small plastic cup and a toy calculator, find out locks have been changed and all my underwear and guns are stacked up in a neat pile by the back door. Wake up sitting at table drooling all over inked tax forms, cuss, print out new ones, decide to go to bed and vow to work on it Sunday afternoon.

Sunday—church early, lunch, home, taxes, church late, supper, home, taxes, sleep, wake, dress, kids to school, mail taxes, work.

Blog.

See y’all Monday, I hope.
posted by Terry at 4:58:00 PM