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Category: That’s Unfortunate

But It Definitely Wasn’t So Good

It wasn’t the worst day ever–I would never say that, because on the spectrum of bad days, this one ranks pretty low–but it wasn’t exactly one that we’d like to repeat again anytime soon. I mean. Ever. David was due back in from Connecticut late Thursday night. I worried about him driving–the temperatures were hovering in the single digits, and there was a continuous, fierce wind blowing that was making those temperatures feel like something more in the negative 20s. It was cold in our house–I had the thermostat set at 74, the gas fireplace roaring, and yet we shivered. I checked the thermostat–still 74, it read, though it certainly didn’t feel like t-shirt weather within the four walls of our new-to-us home. I told the kids we were going to skip their baths and showers that night–the bathroom was too cold, and I figured I’d have time in the morning to do it since their school was already on a delay. I tucked the kids into bed. I shivered. I could hear the gas…

Boo (Hoo)

Saoirse stuck her tongue out at David last night. She’d been arguing about taking a shower–first with me (“But I took a bath last night. I took a bath LAST NIGHT!”), then when I didn’t give her the answer she wanted, down to David–and when HE told her to get upstairs, she stuck her tongue out as soon as his back was turned (rookie move, Dave: don’t you know? NEVER TURN YOUR BACK ON THE ENEMY).  Then she lied and told me that she wasn’t sticking out her tongue, or didn’t mean to, or it accidentally fell out of her mouth while she was trying to proclaim her endless devotion to and respect for us–something like that. Either way, it sucked, and she was disciplined: I told her she couldn’t go to her school’s Hallweeen party today, but then a] I realized it was a school thing, and she sort of had to go to school, and b] Dave was all quietly saying, “Really, THAT? You had to go with that?!”, so now she gets to…

And They Wonder Why I’m Grouchy

I had intended to stay up until David came home that night, but I fell into bed at 10:30. David had been travelling, and as always happens by the end of one of his trips, I felt like a piece of stale bread somebody left under the broiler too long. You know, toast. He arrived home from Connecticut a short while later, dropping his suitcase on the tile floor with a clatter,  then cursing under his breath–his whisper, bless his heart, is sort of the same decibel at which you and I speak–because he’d been trying to be quiet. Irony, that. It was 10:52. I came downstairs to chat, and after muttering a few incoherent sentences, was ushered back to bed. (A delirious wife in crumpled pajamas and still-wet hair trying to hold a conversation in their kitchen with the road-weary husband, still wearing his tie from seven that morning? Moments like that are what keep a marriage on FIRE. Or maybe that’s just my eyes burning from lack of sleep. Either or. ) At 2:33 a.m., Cian woke. I fed him, even though the doc says…