Dave worked from home yesterday because he didn’t want to pass along the crud that has been infecting our house for the last two weeks. Why is it that my day feels so weird when there is another person here? Every hour or so, Dave would get exasperated and mention something Tate did. This was followed closely by my blank stare that he didn’t realize that THIS IS EVERY SINGLE DAY. He gets it, I just don’t think he gets it. How could he unless he experienced it himself?
I had constant interruptions from the ding… the Twitter ding, the Facebook ding, the email ding, the text ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. DING. Opportunities for fun things landed square in my lap. Ding. Pep talks for friends. Ding. Can you…? Ding. Do you want to…? Ding. Return messages from moms saying, “yes I can help with the class Valentine party.” Ding. A fun project for a friend. Ding. Do you want it like….? Ding. How about we…? Ding.
I realized that when I finally climbed into bed last night… this morning… at 3 am, that I hadn’t even taken a shower yesterday or gotten out of my yoga pants and t-shirt.
And this morning we’re out of coffee.