2:30 a.m. Friday--allergies are a bitch. Took a Benadryl so I could actually get some sleep. Only a few more hours til get-ready-for-work time.
3:30 a.m. Friday--woke up to hubby snoring. Sent him to a different room. Could still hear him snoring. Eventually forced my way back to sleep.
5:00 a.m. Friday--Number One Son absentmindedly slammed front door as he left for work. Jarred me awake. Trying to get back to sleep--again--I contemplate "absentmindedly" changing the locks before Number One returns home.
6:30 a.m. Friday--phone rings. In my stupor, I mistake that noise for the alarm and jump out of bed. Realize it's the f***ing phone. Enter kitchen just in time to hear the message. It's our friend Randy who doesn't live here anymore. Because he lives 2/10 of a mile away. He's calling because he wants to come over for morning coffee. He's calling from the road directly in front of our kitchen window. The kitchen window I am standing in front of. I am naked. Awesome.
7:00 a.m. Friday--my cell rings. It's Beautiful. She's very, very ill. Wants to know if I'm working and whether I can give her a hand with the kids because she's miserable. Redeeming his snoring self, sweet Hubby rises to the call and offers to take both children by himself all day.
7:02 a.m. Friday--Hubby achieves sainthood. There is no absolution for snoring, however.
7:30 a.m. Friday--my alarm goes off. Anticlimactic. Oh, and? Migraine. Naturally . . .
8:30 a.m. Friday--phone call from work. Instead of working 10-2, they'd like me to fill in for Cindy who is sick. Would I be willing to work 11-7:30? Of course I would.
11:00 a.m. Friday--haul groggy, cantankerous carcass to work. Notice that Cindy is there. Cindy, it seems, has had the worst of it and is feeling enough better to earn her 8 hours. Cindy has been in a serious financial bind for some time now and can't afford not to work--I suspect she's squirrelling away her sick leave in case something major comes up. And who could blame her?
11:01 a.m. Friday--"Since Cindy's here, can I go home?" I jokingly seriously ask. But I can't. Because Robby is sick too.
3:00 p.m. Friday--Manage to make it to previously scheduled doctor's appointment. Miss 2-1/2 hours of work in the middle of the day. Leaving me free to stay late helping out since they're still shorthanded and it's unusually busy for a Friday afternoon.
8:45 p.m. Friday--came home. Tired. Ill-humored. Obliged to spend an evening out with friends visiting from out-of-state. Visiting because their dad is dying. Turning them down is not an option.
9:30 p.m. Friday until 3:00 a.m. Saturday--drama. Juvenile drama. I might as well not even be in the room. I am not being talked to so much as I'm being used. And ignored. And now I am so angry and irritable. Just. Don't. Freaking. Care anymore. Wish that turning them down had been an option.
3:30 a.m. Saturday--finally get to come home. Find Hubby's stash of special chocolate and invite myself to sample.
3:32 a.m. Saturday--Hubby would like to know why I got into his chocolate. Seriously? Where's the mystery????