So, write already.

I was feeling kind of glum and generally blah a few seconds ago. To be honest, I'm still a little bit disappointed by events of earlier this evening. You see, the last few months I've been hinting very, very explicitly - okay, telling - my husband that I would love to come home just one day and find dinner waiting for me on the table and not have to do anything. You know - not have to buy the groceries after having planned what we're having, not had to worry about if I wasn't cooking it, where the food would come from, not have to stop, not have to buy the food and drive it home, not have to attempt to cook it with a toddler clinging to my leg. Just for it to be there, ready for me, on a plate like I frequently do for my husband.

So, this evening, he was very cagey about where he and Ragsy were going after he picked him up from daycare. He said, "Ragsy has somewhere he'd like to go. So we're going there." "Oh, good!" thought I. Maybe a little surprise? Um, no. My husband showed up at about 6:30 - dinner time - after having taken Ragsy for ice cream. And didn't bring me any. Grrrr... What unfortunate timing. Anyway, our son was unsurprisingly not hungry and, somewhat chagrined, my husband offered to do all the rest of the evening's tasks, including dishes, putting Ragsy to bed, etc. Well, 50-50 ain't bad - I think they might both be asleep in there.

Fortunately for him, my ire has cooled. It's a silly thing to be annoyed about, but that's what happens when you live with someone you love for a long time, isn't it? You a) grow closer and b) find out what annoys you about the other person. Fortunately the category b isn't very large for me.

Anyway, I was sitting here wondering what to do with my free time (I still refuse to pick up those dishes, darn it). I've worked out. I've watered the plants. I've showered. And after flipping on the TV, paging through a magazine for a moment, and writing this post, I've decided I'm going to suck it up and write.

What lots of people don't know about me is that I fantasize. A lot. Not necessarily about sex, but I write stories in my head. It's almost constant - I do it now without thinking about it. That's probably the biggest reason I write - to get it out and organize it or it gets all jumbled because there are a lot of stories going on up there at once, and they pile up over time. TV interferes with my mental story writing - too much input, both audio and visual. But I was feeling lazy and didn't really feel like it, so I needed a transition-to-writing activity - great reason to have a blog. So, here I am. And here I go to write already and organize the crap in my head (if not my house).