Ten.One Thousand, Seven Hundred & Ninety-Eight
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Cramps. Still.
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I could lay here and look at the sunlight coming through the trees, but there are things to do.
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Just can’t seem to nail pancakes.
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I leave in the middle of the second inning. I managed to overdress and now I am sweating while I sit here at the top of the bleachers.
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4-2. Championship game on Tuesday.
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Margaritas. Sunshine. Warm breezes. The sound of kids splashing in the pool. I can barely keep my eyes open.
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Sometimes a fried chicken cutlet hits the spot.
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Still, so much laundry to be done.
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Will there ever be a day again when I don’t feel this kind of tired?
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Don’t forget.