I woke up on the downstairs futon (my wife is suffering from severe allergies and snoring) and could hear the baby crying. After a half an hour, it became clear nobody else was going to get him, so I got up. Darnit; I forgot to make coffee last night. Darnit, darnit; the baby already has a full diaper. Oh well, it's Sunday, I'll lounge around and then go to church. I change the baby, start the coffee and then sit down to watch the news. Floods, earthquakes, fires, tsunami's, and nuclear meltdowns, that was depressing.
Pull out my phone to call and ask my mom to watch the kids while my wife and I go car shopping. Phone rings. My mom is calling to say that my dad is on the way to the emergency room. He was in a mountain biking accident. Head to the hospital, stop and pick up a Consumer Reports first. No broken bones, he'll live, he's going to be sore... but he'll live. Doctor advises he not run into any more metal gates. Narrow the car search down to three models. My mom says we can borrow her car until we get a new one, but asks that we not use it as a trade in (spoilsport.)
Time for dinner. The wing restaurant by our house doesn't have any seats, apparently there is a WWE event tonight; REALLY?! People still watch wrestling? Whatever, different strokes. We try the To-Go wing restaurant. They screw up the order three times and take twenty minutes. The kids order is burned and our fries have sugar on them instead of salt. We spend twenty minutes looking for a lost library book, that nobody seems to have ever seen. I give up. Everybody go to bed. Maybe tomorrow will be better...
HILL BLOCKS VIEW IS DEAD.
...long live, Hill Blocks View. I miss writing. But the thought of one more round of "welcome backs", or obsessing over stats, or thinking of the clever response to a comment, or the obligation to read everyone else's blog... not so much. So I'll try and write. No pressure. If you feel the need to respond, you can email me. I like email. firstname.lastname@example.org