Never again, just... nope, never, never!!
Note to self: After a night of having other people keeping you awake (and not in a good way, either), so that you get about two and a half hours of sleep, and then finally getting into a writing groove when you give up on ever getting back to sleep, and having it INTERRUPTED (looks accusingly at Impertinent Daughter)...
... do not then drive into San Marcos and be fooled into thinking that because the kids did great at the library and didn't make you want to wring their necks even once, it would then be no problem to stop at Hobby Lobby on the way home.
Never. Again.
I actually got some editing done on my slash novel at the library. Which was... wonderful. Miss Priss found books and manga, and managed to introduce the Impossible Son to a new manga which he is devouring. They sat at the table with me, reading and talking quietly while I worked, and then we went to check their books out. And I thought, oh, yeah, they were great at the library, we won't be at Hobby Lobby long, I just need a few things for beadwork, it'll be fine, even if the Husbandly One isn't with us.
Nope, not making that mistake again.
Mr. Impossible doesn't like going to craft stores unless we're getting something for him, and then he wants to escape as soon as possible. And he's operating under the mistaken assumption that if he irritates me enough, I'll leave the store and go home where he can play video games in peaceful bliss, and I'll be happy to be home and won't say a thing to him.
No matter how many times this fantasy does not play out, he still firmly believes it.
Let's just say that the fact he survived to leave the store is a miracle in and of itself. And he has somehow conveniently forgotten that I told him if I left the store before I was ready, and before I'd gotten the things I needed, he would not be playing his DS, or on any of his game systems. Dammit.
Seriously, I need a nap liek whoa. Or a caffeine IV. That is, if my head wasn't already going explodey.
Shoot me. Just shoot me now. Please.
*head-desk*
... do not then drive into San Marcos and be fooled into thinking that because the kids did great at the library and didn't make you want to wring their necks even once, it would then be no problem to stop at Hobby Lobby on the way home.
Never. Again.
I actually got some editing done on my slash novel at the library. Which was... wonderful. Miss Priss found books and manga, and managed to introduce the Impossible Son to a new manga which he is devouring. They sat at the table with me, reading and talking quietly while I worked, and then we went to check their books out. And I thought, oh, yeah, they were great at the library, we won't be at Hobby Lobby long, I just need a few things for beadwork, it'll be fine, even if the Husbandly One isn't with us.
Nope, not making that mistake again.
Mr. Impossible doesn't like going to craft stores unless we're getting something for him, and then he wants to escape as soon as possible. And he's operating under the mistaken assumption that if he irritates me enough, I'll leave the store and go home where he can play video games in peaceful bliss, and I'll be happy to be home and won't say a thing to him.
No matter how many times this fantasy does not play out, he still firmly believes it.
Let's just say that the fact he survived to leave the store is a miracle in and of itself. And he has somehow conveniently forgotten that I told him if I left the store before I was ready, and before I'd gotten the things I needed, he would not be playing his DS, or on any of his game systems. Dammit.
Seriously, I need a nap liek whoa. Or a caffeine IV. That is, if my head wasn't already going explodey.
Shoot me. Just shoot me now. Please.
*head-desk*