today

I don't feel like blogging.

I don't have anything interesting to say (I am warning you upfront).

My husband has worked 56 hours the last 72 hours (that equals 3 days in case you weren't aware. And if you didn't know that, you probably dropped out of elementary school to join the circus. I hoped that worked out for you!) For those of you who aren't math geniuses, that leaves 16 little hours; just over 5 hours a day. I have kindly allowed him to use those to sleep. When he slept in until 6 accidentally on purpose this morning and rushed out the door to work, I wanted to cry for him.
And a little for me.
I mean, he is not even a Dr. (which would be a nice improvement on the meager salary) And there is no such thing as overtime pay when you work for yourself. (no fair!)

But children were already squawking and that meant time to suck it up and move on.

Later we went to get out of the house and the car wouldn't start.
Battery was dead.
I was not sure which child left the interior lights on so I couldn't decide who to blame.

We decided to go for a walk.

It was too hot.

The small child in the stroller decided to scream.

So, we went home and played in the back yard.

The same small child played in the ashes in the fire pit.

I bathed him, and cleaned up the kitchen from the breakfast mess I had decided to neglect this morning. Then I messed it all up again to make lunch.

I ordered more syringes and other supplies, and gagged at the cost of diabetes.

I was tempted to cry again.

But I sucked it up to play candy land.

I lost.

I texted the husband and asked him when he was coming home tonight.

He didn't know.

Just in case you don't know, I don't know in a marriage is usually code for something bad.

There is no chocolate in my house.

My shins are sore.

I need a hair cut.

And a lot of money.

That is all.