I hearby decree, this thirty-first day of July, in the Year of our Lord 2008, that any and all profits from my home-based business this next calendar year will be earmarked for the sole purpose of Summer Camps 2009. Any monies found on the floor, between the couch cushions, or in the backseat of a friend’s car, will be appropriated for the sole purpose of Summer Camps 2009. Any monies found in the washer, on the street, or from the sale of my kidneys/platelets/eggs, will also be set aside for the sole purpose of Summer Camps 2009.
So say we all.
Two weeks. Just two more weeks. I can make two more weeks without leaving them in a ditch. Especially since next week is MY WEEK. Both boys have church camp from 9-3 every.single.day. Then three days with me, then I’m off to Minnesota for four days, then school starts. I can do this. I’m not going to leave them in a ditch, though I may consider a trade with a door-to-door salesman.
It doesn’t help that it’s ungodly hot. Today we are going to smash a 107 year-old record of number of July days above 90. It’s supposed to be in the upper 90s, lower 100s for the foreseeable future. You know when the weather will break and it’ll suddenly cool off and rain? Monday. ‘Cause that’s when work starts on our white trash patio. It’ll come out of nowhere, ’cause Murphy and his little Law will check his calendar and realize he hasn’t screwed with me enough and hey! let’s go mess up the patio improvements.
It may be quiet here the next few days. My in-laws are coming this afternoon for a visit. They don’t know about this little writing experiment, and I’d like to keep it that way. I’m positive I’ve never said anything negative about them (though I may have written a few things about how the year we lived in Iowa was the longest.year.of.my.life.), but it would be like flouncing around naked.