Home again, again

Seems like I'm always posting reports these days about how I've managed to survive another trip unscathed. Although I'm feeling excessively scathed this time. I spent the week helping the daughter, son-in-law and grandson move. From a town about 600 miles from me to one 500 miles farther away. I helped pack, unpack and clean, mostly.

Actually, I did a lot of grandson-wrestling during the unloading, because the boy's only 3 (and has developmental delays), and wanted to run around in the truck, sit on the stairs or lie in the entry way, and threw a fit when we wouldn't let him. I spent over 30 minutes just hanging on to him until he wore himself out enough to fall asleep in my lap. He's a big boy--stronger than a lot of 5-year-olds--and he wore me out too. But I didn't get to take a nap, alas. I had to clean nasty bathrooms (the landlord painted & put in a new tub surround but didn't clean up after himself--there were globs of caulk and cement all in the bathtub...) and unpack. But they're all moved in. They've contacted the school people for the groundling's schooling--he gets a few weeks to settle in before going in for an evaluation--and we finally found the silverware.

So I'm really, really tired. I have to move the youngest son back to college and his first apartment on Friday... I've hardly been able to think about the book that smacked me in the head. It's been a nice thing to muse in the few moments before falling asleep at night, and I did work on developing plot while traveling on the airplane, but that's about it. I'm tired.

We shall see if I can even summon up any brainpower to blog again this week. If I spend a lot of time sleeping, we may not have anything to blog about... So...okay then.