Blast it
Lovely day, a mailbox full of CDs to which I have been looking forward a while (Goldfinger, Alkaline Trio, International Superheroes of Hardcore, No Age, Night Marchers), and a car with a sunroof. What's wrong with this picture?
It's Monday afternoon, meaning I'm stuck in my fucking office 'til 5ish. I will calm myself with the knowledge that Raw tonight is three hours long and features the King of the Ring tournament. It's like a free pay-per-view.
The whole "stuck in my office" hing wouldn't have me so bent out of shape, were it not for the fact that I had to go pick up Tony from school around 11. He hurt his neck on a trampoline yesterday morning and didn't tell anyone until roughly three hours later, leading us to once again believe that it was a ploy for sympathy.
Of course, it ended up being real, and his neck has a slight sprain. Then again, I'm pretty sure that he's playing it just a touch. He didn't seem to have any trouble slinging his backpack from one shoulder, packed full of books as it was. I'm tempted to swing back by the house to check and make sure he's not watching tv (the idea being that if he can sit and watch tv, he can sit in class and listen).
I'm not, because one fight a week is quite enough, and today's busy enough as it is. I'm going to work on reading for my poetry class and that homework assignment for my lit class and enjoy the fact that I can manage to get all of this done while ostensibly being a responsible music director.
It's Monday afternoon, meaning I'm stuck in my fucking office 'til 5ish. I will calm myself with the knowledge that Raw tonight is three hours long and features the King of the Ring tournament. It's like a free pay-per-view.
The whole "stuck in my office" hing wouldn't have me so bent out of shape, were it not for the fact that I had to go pick up Tony from school around 11. He hurt his neck on a trampoline yesterday morning and didn't tell anyone until roughly three hours later, leading us to once again believe that it was a ploy for sympathy.
Of course, it ended up being real, and his neck has a slight sprain. Then again, I'm pretty sure that he's playing it just a touch. He didn't seem to have any trouble slinging his backpack from one shoulder, packed full of books as it was. I'm tempted to swing back by the house to check and make sure he's not watching tv (the idea being that if he can sit and watch tv, he can sit in class and listen).
I'm not, because one fight a week is quite enough, and today's busy enough as it is. I'm going to work on reading for my poetry class and that homework assignment for my lit class and enjoy the fact that I can manage to get all of this done while ostensibly being a responsible music director.