I’m generally pretty timely.

Generally

Not all of the time, but most of the time. Church seems to be an exception. It feels like we just cannot make it out the door in time. There’s breakfast to make for the girls (I fast), there’s a ball to throw, wood to stack, laundry to do, songs to sing, it goes on and on and none of it can get done before our departure time of 9am.

Today our car (the good one) wouldn’t start because it wouldn’t stop last night, and opening the hood required a claw hammer because of the ice.

Isn’t Vermont a dream?

As I wrote this I realized that Roby’s old bottle (which has been slowly disintegrating for months) had been soaking my butt with milk for the past five or ten minutes. Good thing I own a single pair of pants!

The endless indignity and delays of parenthood are a thing that is difficult to get used to.

Somehow you would think that being on our way to church would make things easier, I do not find that to be the case.

I’m in a bad mood.