I just got back from driving Two and five of his friends home from a party. It was a classic Two move: I drove him and two friends to the party, told him to see if he could get a ride home, and he texted me at 11 to say I should come get him, John, Anthony, Mikey, Charlie, and Keenan. But that it was okay, because most of them were going to the same house. They were not. It was an hour long round trip. I will say, however, that it was almost funnier listening to a car full of teenage boys than it was yesterday with the young 'uns. It was a non-stop comedy routine, with intermittant sing-alongs.
I had an irritating day, which was the culmination of the longest twelve days of my life. The disjointed school breaks wore me out. I felt out of sorts the whole time. So even though it was a pain in the ass to drive them all over Kingdom Come, they made me laugh. A few hours ago I was ranting about how much I hate team sports, and doctors, for any species. I'm too tired to go into it right now, but I'm pretty sure it's displaced anger. Valid, displaced anger, but nonetheless, I can continue to stew, or work on my letting-go skills this weekend.
Now I'm off to bed, and hopefully, a normal weekend. I'm not even sure what that means. I'll let you know how it all turns out. Okay: break!
Damn team sports.