It's by no means been a bad weekend, but it nonetheless feels like we're stuck in a time dilation field, with no exit in sight. That seems grossly unfair to the kids and Rick, but gods, I can't wait for tomorrow. It might have something to do with Rosie being home with a bum ankle since the 23rd. It might have something to do with the month-long sinus infection I've been putting up with.
It could also be that there are only three more finals to give in order to put this semester to rest, and I'm ready for the grading to be done, but I swear by all that is red-inked and error-laden that I am so ready to be done grading that I wish finals weren't obligatory. I'd skip them with delight.
All I really want to do is curl up in bed with a Stephanie Plum adventure and veg, in sweet silence with a cat at my side and another on my chest. Alternately, running down the road helter skelter also appeals. I am skin jumpy again, and that seems to set off the time dilation field, so that hours pass by so slowly it seems as if one is riding on a slow-moving molasses wave.
The kids don't seem to notice or care, though. Rosie's walking normally again despite the lingering bruise and slight swelling. She and Lily are wrapped up tightly in each other's company, playing intricate games they create together. Bobby disappears into the field, so that I wonder if he constantly lives there, in a time dilation field of his own. He seems happy, though, so who am I to complain? If he's ever suffered from skin-jumpiness, I've never seen it, nor has he ever indicated that he ever feels stretched past capacity and in need of movement to shake the little prickly tingling sensations that crawl on the back of one's neck. There are times, especially days like this, that I wonder if any of my children or Rick have ever felt like they could jump out of their skins or needed to.
I am certain, though, that Little Dude, our kitten, gets it, understands that feeling, as he jumps onto the top of the fridge, and onto the ledge that runs the width of the house and divides the living room from the kitchen and runs across the tops of bookcases as if the devil were chasing him. I can't help but watch him enviously. I'd like to do that...of course, then I'd no doubt be back in the walking boot and really dealing with a serious case of skin-jumpy.