Evening meetings and junk reading

It's only Tuesday. The week feels long.

I have two evening meetings this week. I hatehatehate evening meetings. There was a time, about five years ago or so, that I averaged three, maybe four, meetings a week. I did it. And I often hauled my kids with me, because Gary was traveling and I really hated, in principle, to pay for a sitter when I was volunteering. I would set them up in the nursery/child care space, and the girls would watch a movie, play games, do homework.

The girls are older now, so they can stay home. But I'm not sure whether it's really easier - now I worry about whether homework is getting done, rooms tidied, baths taken, Sylvia put to bed on time.

Tonight's meeting was not long - only an hour and 15 minutes. But so much of what was discussed did not feel important. If there's one thing I can't stand it's a meeting that is not run efficiently. Yes, there was an agenda, but it was not followed.

I have another meeting tomorrow night. With luck, I will have to pick up Alison, so I can cut out early if need be. Let's hope it's run better than tonight.

I like to help out; I like to do my part. But I'm just too used to my evening routine of staying put. Plus I checked our four (count 'em, 4) really trashy novels from the library. I should do better, but I have to alternate my reading selections. A little Faulkner, a little McEwen, a little Shopaholic. It's like junk food: A little is OK, but too much will make you ill.

But right now, I'm craving some tacky literature. I am going to indulge. Guilt-free. Because as bad as it is, it's totally worth it some days.