Tonight, I am in the house alone. Andrew took the kids to Cubs and afterwards to a friend's house where they are sleeping over.
Tonight, I am working late to make up for taking two unexpected days off. It's March Break, and we decided to head into our capital city for a mini break. I took my laptop, somehow convincing myself I would find time to do a bit of work, but seriously, who was I kidding?
Tonight, I completed final edits on a manuscript. Edits I will look at again tomorrow in the light of day to make sure nothing slipped past my tired brain.
Tonight, I am preparing for classes tomorrow. I want to discuss the influence of Russian writers on 19th and 20th century fiction, and my memory is a little rusty. But as I get into it, it comes back to me, and I remember. It makes me sad and happy. Sad that so much of what we learn gets lost, but happy that it isn't really lost and if we dust it off, it's still there somewhere.
Tonight, I am ignoring the detritus that is my house after a hasty dinner, a bunch of unpacked and repacked suitcases, and a rushed evening, not to mention a week of kids being home.
Tonight, the only sound is the thrum of the washing machine, and the faint strains of Sergei Rachmaninoff's piano playing on the stereo (inspiration for the Russian literature).
Tonight, I am feeling a bit chilled, and am drinking hot tea.
Tonight, I am looking forward to a good night's sleep in my own bed.