I’m tempted to give myself the night off from writing. I’ve been doing so well, right? Showing up here, sharing fun stories, painting vivid pictures, and getting a little vulnerable too. My goal isn’t to be a taskmaster to myself, but I also don’t want to hand out exemption cards like they’re Skittles.
Mmm, Skittles. Especially the green and pink tropical-flavored ones.
Archie’s slinky saunter to be petted reminded me that he’s in trouble. This morning, I missed a call from Dan, a family member two houses down, and when I immediately called back, he told me Archie was in the middle of the road, running alongside his truck. As I stepped out the front door, the sprinting cheetah of a dog turned the audio drama into a live-action show. I thanked Dan, hung up, and gave Archie both a scolding and a call to return inside—all in one breath.
Tomorrow’s morning outing will have me watching over him like a high school hall monitor.
Have I done it? Have I written enough?
I sound like Evelyn when she’s tired of trying to sound out and read words on her Hooked on Phonics app. On those days, when her gears are barely grinding, I tell her, “Yeah, you’re done,” and let her take a break. Because forcing it isn’t fun, no one enjoys banging their head against the wall.
Plus, a new episode of Silo is out, and Dave is waiting for my tippy-tappy hands to pause so we can watch it together.
I better skittle-dattle.
Love,
Jaclynn
Going On 40 