Coup d’Grass

Bridgette called me, moments ago. She was just offered an opportunity to bid on a landscaping job this weekend. If it takes, we will have (did you notice the pronoun shift?) some number of hours disappear from our copious free time, and some small sum of cash replacing it. And I will (another pronoun shift!) be called upon to estimate the job and perform much of the gruntwork.

I’m happy. I’m tired. I’m irritated that this comes now, when there is less and less time available to do all that is needful. And I’m already planning how I’ll keep my fists clenched on writing hours, and not permit them to be traded for landscaping hours.

Grmp. And Hooray.

Tired.

Crossposted from Epinepherine & Sophistry

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