Tomorrow is D-Day.
The husband returns from his trip tomorrow. The baby will join us for brunch or lunch tomorrow before heading back to campus.
And, the oldies will be back.
I called the other day to wish the Unabomber a happy birthday. Then I talked to the mother-in-law. At the end of our conversation she said, "We'll see you on Sunday!" Thanks for the warning.
I'm anxious to see the husband although he will gripe about the piles and clutter. Even though he kicks me, I still sleep better when he's here. I can't wait to see the baby and give him a hug.
The kitchen is aired out -- it no longer smells like bacon or fried stuff. The refrigerator is clean. Bye bye herring in REAL sour cream and other foods that gag me. I've made a dent in the pantry.
I've had a good run. This time tomorrow, life will return to our version of normal. I should probably plan a meal but there's a very good chance that won't happen.
On Monday, it's guaranteed she will restock the frig and the pantry.
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1 comment:
My guess is the only one you really want to see is the Baby, which I guarantee will be the one you see the least of.
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