Tuesday, May 26, 2009

Reality sucks

Back to reality after vacationing for two weeks, I've decided once again that reality sucks. As I waded through bills, errands I put off, laundry and work related tasks, I began to wonder how soon I could escape again! The cats haven't totally forgiven me for my most recent defection so guess I'd better wait a couple of weeks.

My son called this afternoon to let me know the pediatrician has decided my grandson is lactose intolerant and that's why he is suddenly having increased stomach pain and crying. And I thought it was because I left :-) I'm trying to get Skype set up on my computer so I can see the little bugger in real time. The wonders of modern technology.

Now that I'm home, I also need to get busy with more knitting. Other than a board meeting tonight, I don't have much going on in the evening for a couple of weeks. Sounds like prime knitting time to me. Besides, my husband is watching baseball. I think baseball is boring. Videos and knitting - home run!


Donna Lee said...

Reality does suck. Vacations are so nice and then you get slapped in the face with real life. I'll bet it was wonderful to spend time with your son and his new family. Family is all we have really.

Amy Lane said...

SCORE! Yeah.. I always get this wish that I lived in the gentry class so my vacation could go on and on!

KnitTech said...

Yes, reality does suck. But it makes those vacations all the more precious.

Roxie said...

You can always try, "I reject your reality and substitute my own!" It hasn't worked for me yet, but I'm getting there.

Baseball is SO boring! DH and I went to a game with friends, and I was asking idiot questions because I really don't understand all the details. A young man behind us was snorting at my stupidity but didn't actually say anything. Then a runner got to first base and would lead off toward second and he and the pitcher did this little dance where the pitcher would adjust his hat,reposition his athletic supporter, get ready to pitch, then spin around to see if he could pick off the runner. Over and over and over. And over. I turned to DH and asked, "Is this where we hollar, 'Throw the ball, you socktucker!'?"

The young man sitting behind us blew beer through his nose.