In Which I Do Nothing

Today was a day with nothing on the calendar.

That's not entirely true.  Picture day was on the calendar.  But I didn't notice picture day was on the calendar until after the chidlren had already left for school.  Already gone in outfits they had choosen themselves.  With hair they had brushed all by themselves.  This years pictures will be the most honest pictures in the history of school pictures.

But picture day aside, there was nary a doctor's appointment, or therapy appointment, or any other form of obligation that would require putting on real pants in sight.

I got to stay home and simply play with this all day.

I know rough life isn't it.  And see her silly arm.  The kid doesn't sit still.  All her best smile pictures look like this.

But that's neither here nor there.  I'm going somewhere with this.

I found myself, this afternoon, in my comfy pants, surrounded by sleeping beings.  The Greatest was upstairs sleeping for his shift tonight.  The world's cutest baby was napping in her crib.  And the dogs were snoring at my feet.

Left to my own devices I did the only thing I could do.

I watched Greys Anatomy and knit.

It felt so decadent and foreign to be sitting and knitting in the middle of the day.  Weren't there errands to run, or children to chauffeur or appointments to attend, or chores that had been shoved to the side for so long they had now reached critical mass?

Nope.

I sat and knit.

And it was heaven.

I remember when this used to be my life.  Every. Day.  Maybe I should start putting afternoon knitting on the calendar.  Then maybe it will get done.

And a very productive day it was.

Hours of baby giggle, and half a sock.

It was a good day.