Last night I considered writing a Facebook post saying that what I really wanted was four or five days, or even a week, where I didn’t have to go anywhere or do anything other than write. Evidently I forgot about it before I did it.
This morning Doug got up at 4:45am, like he does every Tuesday and Thursday, to take Frank to swim practice. He comes home from taxi duty and starts a workout. I get up and make Frank's breakfast, a calorie-laden protein shake, which he drinks in the car between MHCC and school. I pick him up and drive him from the club to school.
This morning Doug came in and told me to go back to sleep. “The roads are slick this morning. I’ll pick Frank up.” Not one to argue when someone suggests I go back to sleep when the clock says 5:00am, I complied.
I knew before I wrote a post about wishing I could stay put this morning, that it would be impossible. I knew that at 6:55am, I’d be out of the house and on my way to my first trip of the day. Here it is 7:04, and I’m home, haven’t left, and happy as can be. As soon as I finish this blog post, I’m going to dive into And Then You Dance, and see if I can figure out why I hate the last one hundred pages.
I’m feeling very thankful for Doug, and his desire to keep us safe, and for getting to stay put.
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