The bags are packed, some of the food is cooked, and the article - a hideous 1100 words over the planned length - is submitted. This is the glory of being unpaid: when I do not rein myself in, it isn't entirely my problem to deal with. My partner notes, cynically, that I will some day find myself unpaid and responsible for lackadaisackal idiots like myself, but I can only hope that day is long in coming....
and now to bed. Oh, god, bed. Please, please let the baby decide to sleep a little tonight... Tomorrow, I get up at the crack of not-quite dawn to wrangle the kids, tie up details, find veggie sushi to eat on the road, and then, hurrah! head off to loverly New Hampshire, where they are only predicting a 40-50% chance of rain this weekend.
Yes, I packed a raincoat. And a deck of cards. It's our tenth anniversary, and I refuse to be totally squelched by the weather. Worst comes to worst, if it pours we'll just wait the kids out and then play strip poker. (Embarrassed glance at the MIL and FIL.) Or something. But I'll tell you one thing: there will be rose flavored turkish delight. Because, yea, we're like that.
2 comments:
I am not in the least embarrassed at the notion of all 4 of you playing strip poker. Happy anniversary...you deserve a really, truly, deeply, magnificently happy one.
Love, the MIL
All four of us?? Heavens, no. Just two.
Except, of course, that it didn't rain. Every so often it would spit for a while, and we'd wait it out. The sun would get impatient and come out even before the clouds were done, and hey presto! on with the day.
Thanks, o MIL. It was a wonderful day, days, almost week.
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