So, about halfway through my lunch break I realized that it was the first day of summer. Then I realized that I was spending that one hour in pretty much my ideal way (second to being at the beach of course.)
This is how I celebrated the day: Wore shorts to work, wore cute shoes and my favorite black shirt, did the whole curly hair thing in a ponytail, drove around with my shoes kicked off in the floorboard, enjoying the sunshine with the sunroof open and the windows down blasting Me and Bobby McGee and eating an ice cream cone from Dairy Queen. It was a good lunch break.
And then I went back to work and sat at my desk listening to eople tell me why it's my fault they can't control their children and in most instances, themselves.
In other news, nothing from N. Sources report that he has laryngitis, which in this age of electronic communication means that he drops off the face of the planet.
M is making his presence known, or at least trying to be a semblance of presence. Really what's going on is that he gets bored, gets lonely, decides to text me.
Every once in a while I'm real tempted to change my number.
Anyway, before I got distracted by the lack of thrilling that are the boys in my life, I was merely saying this:
It's summer. And so far, it's been gorgeous and peaceful and full of sunshine and music and bare feet, just like summer should be.
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