Not a Creature Was Stirring, Except For My Mouse

Well, I'm not entirely sure it's actually called a mouse. It's that little eraserhead-thingy (yes, that is the official technical name) in the middle of my keyboard, and I'm just winding down my work catch-up for the day.

My very kind boss is sympathizing with my extended descent into the world of solo parenting (Abandon Hope, All Ye Who Enter Here!) and offered to let me go home early on some of the days this week to pick the kids up from school at the regular time and make the rest of my workday up at home. This, of course, is a double-edged sword - getting home before suppertime is lovely, but it's less fun picking up the computer after the kids are in bed. Nevertheless I'm grateful for the opportunity, particularly having been employed for so short a time.

Only two days away from The Husband's return, and the week has gone surprisingly quickly. Yesterday's visit to Chuck E. Cheese was, according to The Girl, "The. Best. Day. Evah!" Mercifully, I was allowed to sit and read my book while dispensing tokens to my wild-running children. My personal opinion of the night was a bit different: The. Worst. Pizza. Evah.

(Seriously, I cannot think of a time I've had worse pizza. They screwed up vegetarian. I didn't think it was possible. I know one doesn't go there for the food, but if I had to choose between that cardboard on a plate and a McDonald's cheeseburger, I would likely have to turn my back on almost 8 years of herbivorism.)

Tonight we all made new friends. I had a mom from church and her daughter over for spaghetti (PM's secret cleaning trick: invite mid-week company - it forces you to get off your butt and sweep). The kids had a fabulous time, and I enjoyed some nice girl chatting. No worries, Canadian BFFs, you're not being replaced. But it *was* fabulous to talk to someone my own age with similar interests (an English major who did a stint as a prof, no less, and is now joining me in my current professional ranks).

And with that, I think I'll stop clickety-clacking these keys and head to bed. Tomorrow night is swimming lessons and suddenly it's Friday. Ooo, and it's Thursday tomorrow - that means frozen yogourt at the office. I hope it's chocolate....