Tired. I am just tired. In some ways I don't mind when Gary is gone — evenings to myself, minimal dinner preparation. But I am the full-time chauffeur, full-time disciplinarian. No relief, no off-duty time.
Consequently, I am exhausted. I've had little, niggling details to take care of for work; I've gone to two (yes, two!) goofy networking lunches this week. I've done the usual around the house. I've read a book. I need to see if my movie is due at the video store. If so, I'll need to return it yet tonight.
And I'm tired.
I'm ready for a low-key weekend. I'll go to a soccer game, see a school play, supervise the hanging of the laundry room shelves. Clean the garage. Assemble more shelves. Hang out by the pool.
But I won't do it alone. And that's a good thing.
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