six hours

I didn't load ONE dish.  I didn't fold ONE article of clothing, or make ONE bed.  I didn't sweep ONE floor (ok I lied, I had to sweep).  I didn't wipe ONE hiney, read ONE storybook or play ONE game of Memory, Trouble or Crazy Old Eights.  I didn't have to share my soda or get someone something from somewhere.


I ran to the store to get Photoshop all by myself.  I did a return at the craft store, effortlessly.  I bought some fabric and mosied (is that a word??) around the store with leisure.  Then I came home and loaded Photoshop and messed with it and blogged and read and facebooked and ate toast and smiled at the sun and listened to the quiet. 

It was great. 

But all of a sudden, at about hour 4.5, I started missing the noise.  I started feeling a little lonely for my little blonde-headed side-kick who had a play date right after preschool.  And I started counting down the minutes til she would get home, and then my other punks too.  I started glancing at the clock wishing my Hon would surprise me and come home early and sit next to me on the couch so I could poke him with my toes til he'd squeeze my feet.

Sheesh.

I always crave alone time, and I am shocked and dismayed that I couldn't even hack six hours to myself!

WOOP!  Kids are home -- gotta go! Don't tell anyone, but I already set up Memory on the floor in the family room in case someone wants to play with me. :)