I started the day with a clear calendar. Nothing scheduled. I planned to get caught up on my summer genealogy course, some writing I need to do for our parish website, and my quilting, that has been languishing in bags in my dining room, all cut out and waiting to be stitched. I pushed a friends proposed visit off to next week so that I could get to all this stuff.
But life happens.
After having the car in two repair shops for the past 36 hours and finally getting it back last night, the tire pressure light wouldn't stay off, so I was tasked with getting it to one of the two shops for yet another look-see. That's two and a half hours of my life that I'll never get back. Two quick errands, and then home to pick up Michael to drive him to his trombone teacher's studio to pick up the mouthpiece he left behind at his lesson earlier this week. Another hour and a half.
Finally check my email, book a table for lunch with friends tomorrow at Frank, book Wilson for boarding while we're in Montreal this weekend, and suddenly it's 2:30 and I haven't done anything on my original list.
And now Michael is practicing the trombone, which means I can't concentrate enough to get to at least two of my items. Don't get me wrong: I love the fact that he practices so diligently. He's got band camp in a couple of weeks, and then he's auditioning for the Jazz 91.1 Youth Big Band and the Hannaford Community Band in mid-September, so he's very motivated to spend lots of time with his horn. But we're in a small-ish house and the sound is everywhere.
On the plus side, the wait at the garage meant that I finished Nicholas Ruddock's fabulous novel The Parabolist. A review will be posted soon....when I get half an hour of peace to think.
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