Pace.Pace.Pace.

Chad is already home. His weekend has begun. lucky duck.

I'm still working. Not even close to done actually.

Remember how the last few months have been so breezy and non-stressful? My job wasn't too busy. I was working an average of 30 hours a week, which feels so delightfully manageable. I wasn't really working on Fridays, because there wasn't enough work to do and I'd rather take a nap, do my laundry and go out to lunch with my darling daughters. Remember how I was showing and getting dressed everyday (almost)?

Yeah, well those days are over.

I kick off two client projects next week, so I'll be in that intense design/getting started/eating all my meals at my desk/no time for showering period for a while.  

Anyway, so I'm down here in my little basement office, space heater pointed directly at my frozen toes. Typing away. Wishing my weekend would start and Chad is upstairs, directly above my office, pacing. I don't know why he's pacing, but he must be because all I hear is...

clomp, clomp, clomp, clomp, clomp, clomp, clomp, clomp, clomp, clomp, clomp, clomp, clomp, clomp, clomp, clomp, clomp, clomp, clomp, clomp, clomp, clomp, clomp, clomp, clomp, clomp, clomp, clomp, clomp, clomp, clomp, clomp, clomp, clomp, clomp, clomp,  clomp, clomp, clomp, clomp, clomp, clomp

PAUSE

clomp, clomp, clomp, clomp, clomp, clomp, clomp, clomp, clomp, clomp, clomp, clomp, clomp, clomp, clomp, clomp, clomp, clomp, clomp, clomp, clomp, clomp, clomp, clomp, clomp, clomp, clomp, clomp, clomp, clomp, clomp, clomp, clomp, clomp, clomp, clomp, clomp, clomp, clomp, clomp, clomp, clomp

Back and forth. Back and forth. Directly over my head. It's like his feet are mocking me. "I'm done with work. I'm home. All I have to do is pace."
 
clomp, clomp, clomp, clomp, clomp, clomp, clomp, clomp, clomp, clomp, clomp, clomp, clomp

{Sigh}

P.S. I started this post about 3, when Chad's being home already was much more offensive than when I got around to finishing this post at 4:54.