It was an uneventful day. The good news was that Colleague's little grandbaby is doing very, very well and is now up over 3 pounds and is expected to come home from the hospital ahead of schedule, i.e., before her actual due date, which was supposed to be in mid-June. I also got to see a better picture of her today, eyes wide open and all. Excellent.
My control-freak self has been very satisfied lately with the management of food and even early attempts at exercise and all, not to mention having a nice relaxing week off and crossing tasks off my list with glee. This is either an illusion or very short-lived, quite possibly both. K comes home for the summer on Friday, which adds a little unpredictability to my sedate, 50-something days. I'm still the mommy, after all; I've got to provide meals for her, too, and it's unlikely that she's going to want a 5 point W8 Watching dinner, and she doesn't need one, either. There goes the food thing. The TV thing goes too, since there's so little I really want to watch that I just give over the remote to any offspring in the room with me. The one thing I know she won't do is sit at my desk, which has become my center of operations. Rather than look for a more comfortable place to sit, like the sofa, I've just made my wooden chair more cozy, what with a seat cushion ... another seat cushion ... a footstool. It's like I'm on my own little wooden throne, with all my things close at hand: computer, pencils, lists, phone, remotes.
This was actually me therapy topic tonight. Am I being too controlling? Is it wrong to love how in control I'm feeling these days? Is there something wrong with me because I'm enjoying myself?
Sometimes I'd like to just stop thinking, y'know?
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I'm watching Friends
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