It occurred to me today that I have only one more weekend of being "normal". I had planned to spend it in relaxing, self-preparing ways...like doing laundry. Or cleaning. Maybe even doing something with my husband. Oh, who am I kidding? I don't get relaxing weekends. Maybe this is good. The time will just fly by.
I don't want time to fly by. I'm scared :(
I got an email this morning, "Sorry, I forgot to tell you there was a hockey tournament on Saturday". Great! I can just schedule that in between the other kid going to hockey in a completely different town and baking a birthday cake in the shape of a puppy mermaid. (Yes, I did write puppy mermaid on purpose. My daughter always has complicated themes). I have a bunch of little girls coming over on Sunday to make a craft with colored sand. Sand? Colored sand no less. There's a craft that we'll remember all year as we try to get it out of the carpet. "Hey, look! I just stepped on part of your birthday party". Almost as bad as when I hid the Easter eggs and lost track of where I put them.
I'm pretty sure there is no Laundry Fairy and if there was, she'd smell the hockey bags and just keep on going. That leaves me doing laundry on Sunday night. Is there a sexy, relaxing way to do laundry? Do tell.
At this rate, I'll have time to sit and contemplate my surgery about the time they wheel me into recovery.
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