Wednesdays

Wednesday nights my husband plays darts. That's his sport. Really. He's in a league and his team is actually doing quite well in the end-of-season tournament. It's not the Stanley cup, but he's pretty excited. He works with women all day so one night a week is really his testosterone fix. He's off throwing darts and drinking a beer or two and I stay home and luxuriate in a bit of quiet time. Sometimes I make stuff. Sometimes I watch t.v. Sometimes I do work. Tonight I watched 'Miracle on 34th Street' and played with felt and now I am (supposed to be) working. Pretty soon I may pour myself a glass of wine and fill the tub up with hot water and read fashion magazines. Don't be jealous. I know how fabulous this sounds and there is laundry and a letter to write and a big pile of beads on my desk that need to arrange themselves into comely jewelry and a nice pile of letters to read and respond to waiting on my laptop. Hmm, I think the bath wins.