Poor Caitlin. She's on the couch, curled up under a blanket. She has a low-grade fever, and she threw up in the front yard as we returned from dropping Caroline at dance camp. Now that I'm thinking about it, this little bug/virus/whatever may be throwing a serious wrench into this afternoon's plans. I mean, they weren't great or anything (1pm yoga class followed by library excursion), but at least it was a couple of hours out of the house. The kiddie kare at the YMCA frowns upon bringing febrile children...maybe this is a big cosmic sign telling me that it's finally time to bust out the vacuum cleaner and get to work. Bummer. I always want the big cosmic sign that tells me to go shopping or something fun, but housework?
2 comments:
maybe the cosmos is wanting you to read and respond to your brother's e-mail... or return one of his phone calls... i'm just sayin'...
If you promise not to blow me off, I'll call you. Better yet, why don't you check your calendar and see if you can squeeze me in between dinner parties!
Post a Comment