Daniel Amasiah—the official name of grandbaby #3. We're so blessed.
Today was supposed to be a commissary day. I had my list ready and my game face on. The plan was to stop on the way and run 2.6 around the hospital, then head up to the base. But on my way to run, I heard on news radio that traffic on I-95 was stopped. Three accidents between home and the base.
Since I hate sitting on 95 more than I hate hunger, I changed the plan. I did my run and then went to Walmart for a few things, including seeds and plants. Then I came home and played in my muddy garden. I put in red bell peppers, yellow squash, zucchini, and basil. Cleaned up the kitchen and, since I will do anything other than write my research proposal (the final project for this class), I took the last article I had to read out on the deck and enjoyed 35 minutes of sunshine while I read and made notes on it.
When I had my thoughts ready to write a discussion board post on the article, I came in and went to the kitchen to get some lunch. As I rounded the bar, I had the immediate sensation that I was going to pass out, so I dropped to my knees and put my head on the floor.
Remember how, whenever little Timmy was hurt or sick, Lassie would stay by his side, nuzzle him and lick him, maybe whine a little?
Pete is no Lassie. He looked at me, then turned and walked away. Thanks for your concern.
Anyway, the feeling passed, I ate, and then wrote my article response. And that's it. I'm out of assignments. All done for the semester, except for the stupid research proposal. Procrastination is my new best friend, which is so funny because that's not how I ever am. I'm the student who gets everything done early and has the last two weeks off. Only not now. It's so sad.
Tomorrow I will go to the commissary and edit. And put off that paper one more day.
Be thankful ~