Our little crew crammed into the back of Dave's car, which I'll be driving for at least tomorrow, on the way back from dropping off my car for service.
I can't say I'd be heartbroken if the Subaru dealer found something catastrophically wrong with my car and I needed a new one. But I'd shed heavy tears for our checkbook.
Our remodel is going well, basically, though it's turning into a ton more work (meaning: money) than we'd expected, like probably having to repaint the entire upstairs. I'm entering the phase of a project in which you start to think it's just reality, that a torn-up house and a constant stream of bad news is permanent and that ownership of our house is reversed -- it owns us, not the other way around. Sort of like the later phases of a pregnancy when you start to think it's all a big joke someone's playing on you and you're going to be pregnant forever.
I woke up with a start at 7:20 this morning. 20 minutes late from the get-go! Incredibly, I got everyone dressed, fed, sunscreened, packed up and into the car by 7:58, but it was a stretch made only possible by thorough preparation the night before, and Dave dressing Katrina. This thing about making lunches in the morning...I'm just not in that sphere of competence.
It's staggering to think how much easier our mornings would be without having to load up the crew in the car and do a forced march in a massive minivan parade to the school, or a mad dash and an extra charge at the CDC for morning care to avoid it. But no, in this, one of the most affluent school districts in the country, there are no school buses.
Someday...someday... no more thinking of 7:20am as late to get up. I'm just not made for it.