I didn't read a thing this weekend.
Not even the New York Times.
And I feel really guilty.
My son is on a national robotics competition and I have been up at 7 to drive him downtown. I am re-doing my home (painting, new rugs, new floors, new furniture) and constantly moving new furniture, putting up paintings, and cleaning out stuff I no longer want. And then we went out for St. Pat's (a family tradition of corned beef and cabbage).
Up again on Sunday morning. My son had asked his grandmother and a neighbor we call "his extra grandmother" to come see him at the competition, so I decided I better feed them if they are out all day at this robot stuff, so I cooked a turkey and brownies before I left at noon and had dinner for five when we got back. Cleaned up. Passed out.
My son's team won top honors and they are going to the nationals in Atlanta, as is the high school's second robot team, a rookie team made up of all girls!!!!
I read a manuscript in the monring before I started work at 10 (instead of working out). I've done almost all the email unsolicteds that came in today (none have I requested). It's time to break for lunch, but I feel that I'm already behind.