For Posting's Sake

Where have I been? What have I been doing? I don’t know. I could tell you that it involves laundry, because it most assuredly does, or I could tell you that it involves work, because I’ve been doing some of that too, but in all honesty, I just can’t figure out where all the hours of my day go. Some I can account for, most are lost in the ether. No, not that kind of ether. Although that might be nice.

I just Googled ether, so I could find a nice little link for you to click through to see what I meant by "that kind of ether", and I found this. Look at what Drs. Pearson and Beddoes treated with ether – phthisis? Catarrhal fever? Bladder calculus? The only one I’ve even heard of is scurvy, and I thought that was pretty much a Pirates Only disease. The others are just a mess of left-over letters. Except for the calculus one. That sounds serious. Math is always serious.

Anyhoo, back to me. Because that’s where we always go with this, isn’t it? I’m clearly just not that funny or entertaining because I can’t think of anything good about which to blog. My children are at their father’s house until the Fourth of July. I thought this part of being divorced would get easier. It doesn’t. In my experience, it’s only getting harder. And my job search is mostly off-limits in the event that I end up working at the firm/with the people that I mock. My current job is cone-of-silence off-limits as well. And while we’ve had several family adventures so far this summer, I have no pictures to post, and blocks and blocks of text are boring. As evidenced.

I do have one post that I’ve been thinking about a lot that I’ve got to sit down and get done. Spencer turned five last week and he needs his tribute. I can’t believe my baby is five. When I was a younger mom, I promised myself I would not call my youngest child ‘the baby.’ I assumed then that I would have likely given that last child a name, and that I would probably have done so with the expectation that I would actually USE said name to refer to said child. Alas, yet another thing for my poor-overworked angel to have written down. Because though Spen has a perfectly good name, there I go, saying ridiculous things like "I can’t believe my baby is five."

Lame.