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As time permits, in-depth musings on myriad subjects will be posted. Abbreviated adages will be announced via Twitter.

Sunday, February 08, 2009

Breaking Point

This morning was near-perfect for a bike ride: Cloudy, cool, and a barely-noticeable breeze blowing from the south. The plan was to roll out from home around 8:20 and meet up with the group for a ride that would clock in just under 90 miles. Of course, that was the plan. Enter my fragile mental state at an early hour with a less-than-idyllicly clean house. Yeah, I lost it.

Something seized hold that frustrated me how there just never seemed to be enough time in the day or days in the week to do what needed to be done, compounded by the fact that I still had not finished last week's laundry and that this week's was already over-flowing. In what was probably not a terribly flattering manner, I proclaimed, "<expletive> it," and changed from cycling garb into the attire of a domestic do-gooder: sweats & a t-shirt. Several hours and a considerably cleaner house later, I now sit at the computer, ready to draft up this week's lesson plans. But first, I thought I'd write to you, dear readers, for it has been so long.

Much has happened as of late, including the district meet (we advanced; regionals are this upcoming Friday & Saturday [yes, on Valentine's Day, of all days]) and a rocket trip to Dallas for the baby shower for the forthcoming twins of D--- & K---. The latter was a lovely, albeit rushed, trip up north for the shower and a bit of face-time with dear friends. That they are about to welcome two children into the world makes me extremely happy, in a vicarious sense. Before I get too teary-eyed, I'm going to get those lesson plans done and then try to spend some quality time with N---.

I do hope your Sunday has gone better than mine and that you, too, have a clean house and content kitty cozied on your lap...providing you're not allergic to cats, that is. I'd hate for you to be sneezing your head off just in the means of fulfilling my prerequisites for Sunday afternoon bliss. Whatever four-legged fuzzball you have on your lap, thanks for reading.

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