I wonder if there's a "can't feel what you're carrying behind you" gene. Why do I wonder this? Well, this morning while herding the kids out the door for school I find William just standing in the hallway with a dazed look on his face. "Time to go, bud", I tell him.
"I can't find where you put my backpack," he replies.
Now, I had just helped him put his backpack on his back a couple minutes ago and he was still wearing it, so at this point I figure he's making a joke. "It's on your back," I say and head over to the closet to get my coat. "Oh," he says and starts following me down the hall—which, I should add, is the opposite direction from the garage.
Ann came into my office after bed asking if we could talk. "Of course," I said. She couldn't sleep and just wanted to talk to me about what she was thinking about and how she was feeling.
We've had these sorts of chats before, but this time it was somehow different. I'm not sure how to describe it other than the tone was more mature. Sure, we got off on tangents like why we use the phrase "the best thing since sliced bread", but there were a lot of other connection points.
For the past couple of weeks I've been trying to tame my office in my free time. It's not a large space, but somehow it's turned into a monstrous project. I've managed to put a lot of things in their appropriate places, (e.g. not "staging" piles), but you couldn't tell now as it's full again with piles of tax papers! Ugh. At least those things already have a place as soon as I finish. The question is: will I finish my taxes before April 15th this year? I plan on it, but reality never seems to match plans...
To wit: the Secretary of State sent me a letter probably a month ago saying that I needed to renew my license. It had helpful comments in BOLD RED LETTERS saying things like: "renew by mail today", "no picture needed", "avoid late fees". I planned to take care of it right away by putting them in my "things to take care of right away" pile.
This was promptly buried by other "things to take care of right away".
I have been listening to the song "Walk Like an Egyptian" for most of the evening. It wasn't me playing it over and over; it was the kids. I don't have anything against the song. If it came on the radio I wouldn't turn it off and I probably have it in my music collection somewhere based on my propensity for purchasing 80's collections, (at least before you could pick-and-choose MP3s to purchase—it wouldn't have made my "to buy" list on its own).
The next question is why where the kids playing this song over and over?