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It was a long day. It was another get nowhere day. My youngest was at home sick again, and we both had tried to nap in the morning, but failed due to the doorbell. I don't even remember how the rest of the day was spent between then and the doctor appointment late in the afternoon, other than that there was lunch, and some work.

At the doctor, my youngest got checked out for his recurring stomach pains, and I got my ear flushed out, but not before another lecture on how nothing smaller than my elbow should be stuck in my ear. Hey, if I hadn't used a Q-Tip (cotton swab to my international readers), I wouldn't have known that there was something stuck in there (and even more stuck in there after pushing the majority of the mystery substance in farther with the Q-Tip).

Later in the evening, it was me coaching soccer, starting with the most truculent member of the team waiting until I was talking and looking slightly away from him to kick a ball in my face. I was fairly sure that his claim that I looked like a tree was a weak alibi, especially since trees do not wear glasses that can draw red blood (which trees also do not have) when smashed into the face of said tree. I was lucky that the wound was a quarter inch above and over from my eye. The blood and pain did little for my demeanor, but I suppose that compared to how most people would react I did quite well. I didn't throttle him, for example.

After practice, it was home for some codeine-laced Tylenol, a call to the musician (unanswered), and a phone call from my ex (unfortunately answered). The time has come to make room in my house for everything the boys have at her house. She has two weeks to clear her stuff out and find somewhere else to live, and in all likelihood this means my life will be turned upside down in the process. After all, as it is there is too much crap here, and last month I instituted a policy of discarding at least one garbage bag of unnecessary crap each week.

The final hour was therefore spent collecting a carload of kid stuff and computers, starting the process, and emphasizing the hugeness of the task ahead.

I would much rather have spent the time corresponding with the prof, talking to the musician, or simply being physically in the presence of either.

Neither preferred situation was to be.