Ten.Five Hundred & Eighty-Five
3:32. Where is that watch?
Surely there's no way I'll be able to get back to sleep now.
Putting butter on toast. A flashback to the small kitchen in Georgia where my grandfather would make toast by putting it in the oven. Sometimes each slice of bread was topped with a piece of very orange cheddar cheese.
“I dealt with extremes on the other end. I think the hottest I’ve ever felt was 156 degrees in Iraq.” Ah, a vet. I make a note in my head to thank him for his service later.
I want to see where this road will take me.
A quick bite at the Mexican restaurant in the strip mall down the street. One chicken, one asada, one el pastor. Plus a chicken tamale please. Margarita with salt on the rim.
We have a guest staying the night and I am no where near prepared. Work both Friday and Saturday. Where to squeeze in grocery shopping and cleaning and cooking and making the room just right.
I’m still feeling bad about the plan not working out. But life happens and it’s OK. I know what I can handle and adding one more thing won’t help me much. But I still feel like I’ve disappointed them.
He boo’d me.
Maybe I should just try.