Today is Wednesday. Hump Day. The middle of the week.
I remember looking at my calendar Sunday evening as I organized my week. I didn't have a lot of run-around planned and I remember thinking that, finally, this was going to be a laid back week.
And here I am right now with a bowl of ice cream. Ice cream makes everything okay, at least for the seven minutes it takes for me to lick a bowl clean.
I should be drafting support letters for an upcoming missions trip. I should be responding to at least one of the six voice mails I have. I should be writing a shopping list for errand-running tomorrow. I should be exercising and stretching (but who are we kidding, have I ever done that?). I should be reviewing and ordering new curriculum for a first grader and a kindergartner. I should be organizing my thoughts for a coffee date I've got with a college girl about why I've got a thumbs-down approach to dating almost all the time. I should be wiping down my cupboard doors for the simple reason that it's been on my chore list since Christmas and I haven't had the least bit of ambition to tackle it.
I should be doing a lot of other things. But I'm not. I'm eating ice cream and allowing myself several minutes of mindless activity.
For the tens of thousands, nope hundreds, nope, just the ten of you reading this, I'm taking a few days off because all of the things I should be doing tonight need to get done in the nights to come. So, unless someone is willing to fill of bucket of soapy water and wash my cupboards or to load up the kids and head to Target tomorrow or to meet with a Dear Soul for coffee and assure her that boys don't matter, yours truly will be occupied.
And an occupied me means non-occupied you since you'll not be using precious minutes to read mindless chatter here.