Delusions of Grandeur
Today, the White Death descended upon Cincinnati. Translation: I got to leave work by 2 p.m. During the drive home, I was giddy with anticipation, contemplating all of the stuff I was going to accomplish when I got there. Iron clothes. Write cards and thank you notes. Clean up our pigsty of a bedroom. Make some homemade cinnamon rolls.
What really happened? I got home, fixed myself a breakfast burrito (I was starving!), and started going through my emails. My husband, Rick, who was working from home today, suggested we take a walk up to the Irish pub in our neighborhood for a hot drink. Sounded good to me.
Three and a half hours later, we came home and it was 7:30. We laid on the couch and bided our time before American Idol by watching Scarface. We just finished watching House. I’m going to post this story and go up to a messy bedroom.
Without any clothes ironed. Without any cards written. Without any fresh, hot cinnamon rolls.
In my own defense, I did clean up the kitchen after I made my lunch (and there were more dirty dishes than the ones I made), turned on the dishwasher, and finished some laundry (I know, I lied the other day – I still had one more load to go). So the day wasn’t a total wash. Besides, how often do you get a snow afternoon to spend with your sweetie?