So I’m sitting in my rocking chair waiting for my husband to get home from work. It’s after 6:30 p.m.; he has been in New England all day on official business. I just finished work myself; I always love those hysterical IT calls at 4:59 p.m., just as you’re getting ready to close all your applications and call it a day.
It could be worse. I don’t have room for complaint. I like what I do. Especially when I can do it from home.
I’m sitting here realizing that I have no idea where the day went. I remember getting up and getting my day started. I remember my two 15-minute breaks where I rode the exercise bike to break the monotony of sitting at a desk, but I don’t remember much else. I think that’s good. I think that means I lost myself in my work, which made the day just zoom by. I hope I didn’t sleep through the day. That would not be good.
I keep looking at the driveway to see if I see lights. It’s kind of funny that I still giddy at the thought of my husband coming home from work. Those fireworks never get stale.