I gave myself permission not to work for four days this week. I had two excuses: visitors and hockey. My sister and her family went down to Austin and San Antonio for spring break, leaving their dog, Clark, with me. They're down there lazing around the pool and complaining about how hot it is, while I'm trying to convince a stubborn schnauzer that he really can go outside in the sleet without a guide (meaning me). I'm really not complaining; he's a great dog, but after having a fourteen-year-old geriatric dog around, it takes a while to get used to a four-year-old youngster.
My son, Dan, also came to visit from NYC. I saw him a few months ago on his turf, but my parents haven't seen him for a while; we were all glad to have him around. I love my dad, but after having a eighty-year-old man around all the time, it was nice to have a visit from a twenty-seven-year-old youngster. If either Dan or my dad read this, I'll probably be in trouble.
After Dan and Clark returned to their homes, I still had hockey as an excuse not to work. After chocolate, Red Wings hockey is my biggest vice. I can keep my hockey obsession under control during the regular season, but when it's playoff time I have to watch every game, no matter what time the game is broadcast or what time-zone the game is played in. I'm an early riser, so games on the West Coast really give me trouble. I could barely function when the games used to go into double and triple overtime. Now, I just stay up way past my bedtime and am foggy and grumpy in the morning, though most people don't even notice since I tend to be foggy and grumpy all of the time. Go Wings!
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