The first day in forever when (I thought) I could lounge in bed, catch up on the NYT from last Sunday and contemplate the whole day. So, of course, my midwifery partner called to ask if I can do clinic this morning because she is at a birth. The march of babies. Or the July of babies.
This bucket is empty. Next life, I'm coming back as a long haired cat in a rhinestone collar. I'll lie on the couch whenever I want. Servants will carry me around. Someone else will do the cooking.