Sunday Becomes Monday
The weekend is almost over. I'm sitting in the dark of the junk room in front of the computer, scratching around the darker corners of the recent past for anything worth reporting. There really isn't much.�
Half an hour passes while I wander into the kitchen in search of something nice to drink, find half a bottle of brandy, and pour myself a very small glass. I'm not typically a spirit drinker, but given there is no wine open, and I'm not going to open a bottle just for me, here I am with a very small glass of brandy.
What IS brandy? Distilled wine? How is it different than sherry? I guess sherry is fortified. You can go google what those words mean in terms of alcoholic drink production. It amazes me that some drinks were ever discovered, given their potentially dangerous manufacturing methods, and toxic properties if mis-used.
Another half hour passes, and you start to understand why the blog posts have almost dried up. It has become increasingly obvious in recent weeks and months that part of the unwritten family rulebook describes that while most are allowed a hobby, pastime, or diversion, parents really are not. Whatever they do must be disposable – dropped at a moment's notice.
Anyway. I'm not complaining. Not really. Most of my days are spent preparing the way for others. It would just be nice sometimes – however rarely – to be indulged in whatever it is that I'm interested in on a given day. I'm guessing most people face the same struggle.
The clock just ticked past midnight. Sunday becomes Monday. One more week of work before we stop for Christmas and hopefully get the chance to see a few family members and friends. Let's hope the world stays out of lockdown long enough.