The only thing not to like about weekends is that all too soon, Sunday night rolls around. When I was in school, Sunday night meant homework. Now that I'm a worker bee, it means trying to remember what I was doing at work last week, pulling the twins' stuff together for day care, planning ahead for what's to come during the week. It used to mean dreading getting up early on Monday morning, but now that happens every day, ho ho.
This weekend has been busy, but nice. Lots of friends around. GH hasn't felt so good, though, so that was a downer. I'm worried about him, more so than usual. He's all itchy, a sign of high liver function. He's really, really tired, more tired than a guy with cancer and twins usually is. He just seems a little hollow.
I've been racing around all day trying to get the bulk of the Sunday chores done so that once the twins are in bed, GH and I can enjoy some time together to talk and just be. Of all the great things about weekends, that time is the best of all.