So . . . my turn to try a little angst! I’ll start small. How about just lamenting over a day? Here we go . . .
I am so done with today. Meh.
It’s the first stay-home day of homeschool since Christmas break. Breaks from school are the worst, because they end. The kids are all like, this is so haaaarrrrrd. The older one says, what is this question about, forces on the books and the table? What do they wannnnnt? As though he didn’t just read the material. As though he’s never even heard of gravity.
The younger one hops around like a squirrel on amphetamines. For six hours. Then math devolves into tears. Seriously. I’ve got Tom Hanks inside my head, protesting: there’s no crying in math! There’s no crying in math!
I make the mistake of reading the full lesson plan in older son’s curriculum. A research paper with a thesis? Hello, lead balloon. I don’t even try with the younger son’s. Why oh why aren’t they close enough in age to share the same lesson plan?
The dog does not get walked. The laundry does not get folded. The Christmas tree is still sulking in the corner of the front room, a few ornaments hanging on limp branches, the storage bins and pine needles littered all around.
Dinner will consist of baked potatoes served with whatever leftovers the family can stomach putting next to them. The fudge in the fridge will not firm up properly, because I used too much evaporated milk because the stupid recipe called for less than one can, and what am I supposed to do with the rest, anyway?
Here’s a list of more things I haven’t done today: exercise, shower, leave the house. No, taking the recycling out to the garage doesn’t count.
I got that Instalanche, so that was pretty sweet, but do you know what that means? Me, compulsively checking for more comments, and getting distracted with who-knows-what online, and spending way too much time with my face in this here screen and my butt in this here recliner.
It’s dark now. I guess the day is done. So, that’s all I have to complain about. How’d I do?