Yes, this is Mr. Bottlecops, reporting to you from the 21st dimension, where time has gone haywire.
Shannon is a gazillion weeks pregnant, with D-day (I mean, "due date") alternately looming ever closer and remaining far, far away.
If she's thinking about her hips, time stands still. If I'm thinking of how much work remains to be done, time flies whether we're having any fun or not.
Could 5 weeks be any more complicated?
Football begins in 5 weeks (I tried explaining to Shannon that her due date was actually the same day the Cowboys begin the season, so maybe we could work around that … no, she didn't think that was very funny.)
School for the boy begins in 3 weeks (and I have no idea what I need to do to get him back in the loving arms of AISD). Mornings with the Messiah begins in 4 weeks and I either have to complete his (potty) training or let him face Vader unprepared, I mean, convince them that he's mostly there.
There are rooms to clean, infant stuff to reassemble, paperwork to be done, clothes to wash, procedures to remember.
And that's the stuff that doesn't cost money. There's still stuff to be purchased with money we don't have (anybody looking for clues as to why I can't spend $100 on fantasy football this year can stop here.) There's better bottles to buy, an exterminator to call in, supplies we don't yet know we need, a damn nightlight to find.
(Can you believe that I cannot find a second Safety 1st nighlight with outlet cover? Everywhere, they are sold out, out of stock, out of luck. I actually found one and tried to order it online, but then discovered it was in CANADA, and the shipping was twice the cost of the nightlight. I thought about it.)
Anyway, like always, I've got a long way to go and a short time to get there.
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