Soon baseball season will be upon me, and this strangely calm moment I have found will be whisked promptly away. But for now, I am not in a show. And Kirk and the older boys have scouts on Tuesdays. And Dylan is just a really quiet human. Which means that each Tuesday, I find myself with an hour. One quiet hour. With which to do whatever I choose.
I have found that since discovering this hour, I usually spend my drive home contemplating just how to spend it. It is kind of like going to Kohls with only $10. There is so much I would love to get, but the budget will only go so far. I have to browse the entire store, trying everything on, making certain I have gotten the most out of my meager amount. Most of the time my options come down to three of my favorite activities. Do I want to spend my hour curled up on the couch with a book in my hand? Or perhaps seated at my laptop, my thoughts pouring effortlessly onto the screen. Maybe I could spend it in the piano room, a book of Broadway tunes held open by the weight of the conveniently nearby primer piano books.
Read, write, or play?
Or give up on choosing and just take a bath instead.
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