I had such plans.
Today Kent was supposed to be arriving at our house from his week in Texas at about 5pm. I figured that left me 6 hours of no-kids, pure work time. Plenty of time to make three different dishes for the recital, write my cards to all my students, buy their recital gifts which I had chosen earlier but thought would be easier to buy and transport without the kids in my car, indulge my daily complusion to walk through the new construction and find something to worry about (It looks like there’s a hole in the cabinets for only one oven! I’m 8000% positive I’m supposed to be getting two ovens! Gah! That kind of thing.), pick up 20 chairs from the friend who is loaning me chairs for the recital and drive them to the house of the friend who is loaning me a house for the recital, finish and print the programs, and locate all the tablewares I need for the reception. Peasy.
Until Kent’s flight got cancelled pushing his ETA to 11pm.
a;slkdjflkjasl;dkfjasl;dkfjlsakdfj!!!!!!!!!!!! Game Over.
Unbelievably, the boys fell asleep while I picked up Fluffernutter and her playdate from school, slept through the transfer from car to bed, and continued to sleep for a solid 2 hours!
In that window, I banged out the baking and card making. Then I took everyone with me to buy the gifts. Then what to my wondering eyes should appear, but an email from chair friend saying she had ever so kindly delivered her chairs to house friend of her own accord! It’s a Christmas miracle!
Kent showed up in time to receive the world’s highest pitched squeals and tightest hugs from a still-awake Flufferella, which gave me the chance to slip away to the computer and print the programs.
I think I got this.
I was prepared to go to bed at 4am fuming and shaking my fist at the sky over stupid cancelled flights, but instead, I may make it to bed by 1am fuming and shaking my fist at Ken Frigging Jennings for once again choking on Final Jeopardy and handing a million dollar win to that smug, fidgetty, stubble-sporting Brad. Bletch! On the upside, although my fraction of correct responses has never been lower than the past week of Jeopardy, I seemed to know almost every answer that none of them got including the first day final, “As Good As It Gets”. Put that in your Porsche and smoke it, Brad.
Fluffy asked me if I would please go on Jeopardy and win a bunch of money so we can have her birthday party this year at Disneyland. She also told me she likes to hear me yell the answers at the TV because I’m always right. I have never loved her more.