The March of Time

I took last week off from doing anything. With my knee, I didn't want to work and then I woke up in such a bad mood on Monday I need to take a day off. Things being what they are when you work for the man, you have to request a day off 48 hours in advance. No big deal, I hate taking days off in the middle of the week, so Friday. Check the book and damned if someone hadn't already taken the day on my team. No day off for Steve. After a string of cuss words, I suck it up and take the next Friday off. The rest of the week sucked ass. If I could have put it on fast forward, I would have, or a few shots of tequila.

Friday comes and goes and then it's the weekend. After last Friday's fun cut short, staying out late is just about over. Which, BTW, was cut short anyway by the county cops. Saturday, I went to a birthday party for my friends one year old. Brooklyn is a miracle baby of sorts. Her due date was supposed to be my birthday, but she had to be delivered about 100 days early. Surprises of all surprises, her doctors let her go home early. With premature babies, they usually stay in until their due date. She came home the week before Memorial Day. She was all of 5 pounds.

She seems to be a healthy happy baby. When I saw her a month ago, she was a typical baby: you lay her down and she stays there. Four weeks later, if you sit her up, she won't do a face plant, she can't crawl but she can push herself backwards. Entertainment of all entertainment, she got an un-iced chocolate cake to tear apart. Chocolate cake all over the place including her face. It was good to see childlike innocence again.

Sunday I spent the day lounging.

Myelitis . . . same, MS still the same. Shots . . . Monday was okay, with the delayed flu. Wednesday okay again, with delayed flu, which was a little unusual. Friday . . . hurt like hell, no flu.