I’m finding I cannot watch Mad Men at 10 p.m. on Sundays, then get to sleep by, oh, 11:30, then wake up and at ’em at 4:50, rarin’ to take on another week of school/rehearsals/BU rubbish. I admit it: I’m getting too old for that krazy kockadoodie krap.
However, I am not too old to have had a huge water fight with Jake during his bath time at my house last night, using washcloths for swords — he in the bathtub, and I on the bathroom floor. He won. We laughed. It was epic.
But henny, Grammie is tired.
So DVR from now on. Still, I wonder: how shall I get through my autumn Sunday nights, after having watched the Browns lose (again)? Guess I’ll have to do something productive. How boring is that?