A new day
I’ve finished berating myself for doing a lousy job of not talking. I’m back on the wagon and spending the day in the solitude of my office, determined to get a jump on my work for the week. And spend some quality time on my latest manuscript.
Home life has been good, although K now has some sort of flu or bug. I’m the only person in the home who hasn’t spent a night vomiting and hugging the toilet. But, having already lived through the swine flu, I think I’m pretty much immune to anything else that can be going around.
A nightly joke at home is the subject of pajama pants. There are a variety of them between all of us, including some with Dr. Pepper logos, money logos, and football logos. The joke is that they’ve all been altered by “grandma,” resulting in them being too short, too wide and too flappy. After mocking them every night, I was in the awkward position last night of having to borrow a pair of pajama bottoms, my only leisure pants were in the laundry and I only had jeans to wear. So i put the plea out there, a little afraid of what it would bring. But K produced a pair of plaid, fairly decent fitting pj bottoms for me, and as I walked around the house with the legs too short and flapping in the wind every time I walked, I realized I had been assimilated into the family. And it felt good. It felt good to remember that all of my friends would do anything for me, and I went to bed feeling pretty blessed.
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