'schedule'. I use the term schedule loosely because she doesn't have one. On the days I want to go out she sleeps 5 hours. On the days I want to get sewing done, not a moment of napping to be found...but I digress. While I have learned that she is completely unpredictable, I was deluded enough to think I had some control over my own life and schedule. Take today for instance. I planned on getting up, cleaning the house, finishing washing the diapers, taking Miss V to the other end of town to watch a movie, knitting with pals, bringing my car into the garage (which involves my mother coming over to watch V hence the cleaning listed above), home for dinner and then maybe some knitting.
And the gods laughed. Not only did they laugh, they belly laughed. They rolled around on the floor for a bit, got up and wiped the tears from their eyes:
I slept in and had no time for cleaning. So I decided to be a responsible adult(tm) and drop the knitwitting. I'd still have a clean house for my mother. Threw the diapers in the dryer, and made it to the far side of
Lunch finished at 2:30, and, with hubby being done work at 3, I realized I had approximately 15 minutes to clean my house, which was approximately a thousand too few minutes to make a dent. Hoping to drive fast enough to reverse time, I ran out to my car only to discover a dead battery and a random rapidly clicking relay, kind of like having a June bug in my dash. This was immediately followed by a frantic call to my hubby and a half hour wait for him to arrive for a boost. During my wait I was immensely entertained by a car full of teenagers sitting in their car smoking up the *entire* time I waited. Really. Over 1/2 an hour of pot fumes wafting by. I also entertained myself by calling Lulu's hubby, who happens to own the garage where the car was going for brake work, to tell him that I might not make it as my car was broken down. Yep, I couldn't get to the garage, because my car was broken down. Okay, maybe the pot fumes got to me, but I swear it was funny when it was happening.
By four I was resigned to the fact that my mother would uncover just what a disaster my house was, be totally disgusted, and refuse to stay in my pigsty with her granddaughter. There may have also been some fear of being sent to my room. I returned home, threw my daughter in to her arms and rushed out to the garage (clearly not giving her a chance to take in all her surroundings before I left).
We made it to the garage in time, and hubby was even forward thinking enough to throw my summer tires in his truck. I mean, if they have to take the tires off to look at the brakes anyways...
Dinner was a lovely dash through McDonald's which is clearly a poor substitute for the pork chops I had planned. I really need to work on my 'whip together in an instant' recipe repertoire, or my mother may stop coming over.
So that leaves knitting, and after a day like today, the last thing I needed to do was pick up a pair of lace socks. First of all, it's lace. Not mindless would be an understatement. Secondly, I'm a bit tense. I don't need that to be reflected in my tension. I'd hate to produce some hybrid sock with the calf for an adult and the foot built for a child. And finally, my dpns are just a bit too long and they poke V's head while she's nursing. This does not make for a happy child.
By my tally, I was 2.5/8 today (the car getting to the garage only gets 1/2 a point for all the other grief it caused me). I think I do better when V plans my days.