Oh, Good Lord, I overslept again! Hate when that happens. I feel like I've wasted the whole day. And just look at this place. What a mess. But, what can I expect? It's been a whole 10 hours since I last vacuumed for most of the day. Better get to work quick, since I've got my at-home Stomping class at 9:00 and then I have to lay on the floor and groan for awhile. Ugh - so much to do!
Sunday, 7:32 a.m.
It was a hell of a job getting the kids up this morning. They sure know how to sleep. I have a secret weapon, though. All I had to do was remind Jamie and Brad that every minute they stay in bed is a minute they don't get to run around screaming at the top of their lungs. Plus, Brad has to practice that one part of Joplin's "The Entertainer" at least 140 more times if he's going to be ready for his piano recital next week.
Sunday, 10:10 a.m.
Jocelyn called. The poor thing, she's had such a rough time with Corey. She deserves so much better than him. I'm a good friend, though. I didn't try to offer advice. She just wanted to get some things off her chest, so I only responded with "Oh my God!" and "Seriously." Don't worry, Diary, I made sure to speak loud enough so she could tell I really care. Oh, and Stomping class was great today. We learned a new move: rhythmic floor pounding!
Sunday, 1:30 p.m.
Connor is going out with his friends to watch some football game.
Nothing to worry about! They were just in the living room punching the wall as hard as they could. I bet they grow up to be big and strong!
Sunday, 5:15 p.m.
What a treat! Connor met these really interesting guys at the bar. They're an eight-piece percussion and french horn band visiting from Malawi. They've been sleeping in a hostel, of all places! I told them that since they're so nice, and their music is so cacophonous and avant-garde that they might as well stay with us for a few nights. They warned me that sometimes they practice late into the night, but I don't mind. If anything, it will show Brad what being a real grown-up musician is all about.
Sunday, 9:28 p.m.
I'm so tired, Diary, but after spending the day woodworking, ice sculpting, tap dancing, and slaughtering 40 chickens, this place is a mess. It's nothing that another four hours of vacuuming won't fix, though! What's that noise? Oh, it's just the downstairs neighbor. Looks like he's coming home with some Trader Joe's bags. Is that two bottles of whiskey in the bag? I don't know about this guy, Diary. Some people are just weirdos.