This has been a pretty cruddy day.
After cancelling the arrival of the Dell technician who was supposed to replace the LCD on my daughter's screen, because the other thing he would have done, replacing the motherboard, couldn't be done because the motherboard hadn't arrived, it arrived -- ten minutes after he would have been here.
I baked some cookies, and my wife said They're a little thin, aren't they?
It's rained all day.
My daughter's ticked at me for not wanting to drive seven to eight hours, total, and pay for a hotel over night, so that she could see a color guard routine that might last ten minutes.
My mentoree was in a non-talkative mood.
Gah.
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My daughter just told me she sent me an email. Which was:
Im sorry I know I have a temper I was just really mad that I probably could not go to tim's show when I have been dying to go and watch him and talk to him for ages. I'm going to come down again at 4:50 if you want to talk then
Oh, hell..... She's reminding me how much I like her.
7 comments:
Daughters know what buttons to push to smooth things over with Daddys... I think that's part of our genetic makeup.
When she was younger, a friend said she had me around her little finger. I said Of Course - that's her job!And, hell, got to remember: this is the person who will be picking my nursing home....
This guy sounds really important...do you think it is about more than the show?
Gosh, I hope not -- it's her cousin!
Gah.
We do not love days like today. No we don't.
"this is the person who will be picking my nursing home" ... I hadn't thought of that.
Good advice. Timely too. Thanks.
Ah, heck, she's already told us that when she's ready, we can transfer the house to her. In return, we can live in one of the downstairs bedrooms. Such a deal!
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