Hubby and Logan took off for a weekend of male bonding and dirt bike riding.  Lots of dust and roaring engines and testosterone.  Sleeping in the back of the van, cooking over a campfire, waking at the crack of dawn.  Sounds like fun...NOT!

Meanwhile, I find myself strangely alone...at home.  A rarity indeed!  What to do?  What to do?  I know one thing.  Whatever I choose to do won't involve rising early.

Like all dutiful (read: inaptly guilt-ridden) moms/wives/women, I know what I should do:  catch up on bills, household chores, find something in my closet to wear during my trip next week to California for my cousin's wedding (read: see if I still fit into what I was planning to wear and if I can scrounge up a pair of snag-free, dreaded pantyhose), return books to the library, go to the market, and write!

What's up with that?  The guys won't be concerned about anything except how many rides they get in before dark and whether or not they remembered the stuff for s'mores.  So, what would I like to do?   HHHmmmm.....

I'm going to give that some serious thought as I fold the laundry.