Thursday is the day I usually set the morning aside to write the blog update.  Let me tell you about what happened on this particular Thursday.

By the time I came downstairs this morning, it was still dark out, but the one contractor was already puttering around in the bedroom remodel area on the ground floor before I got the coffee machine and lights turned on.  He was followed shortly thereafter by the hardwood floor guys who spent the entire day sawing and hammering as they replaced the damaged flooring in the entryway.  They were hard at work when my daughter and grandson showed up right around eight AM.  It’s Christmas vacation, and without daycare available, Colt is with us.

When it was time to do breakfast, I hit the first roadblock and the first major Grandma Fail of the day.  I got out the OJ.  I got out the Cheerios.  I reached for the milk.  No milk.  The trip to the grocery store that was supposed to happen yesterday didn’t happen.  We ended up having New Year’s Cheerios–that would be Cheerios with Egg Nog for breakfast.  Colt said they were “Epically good.”  I was glad he was pleased.  I was even MORE pleased that he used an adverb (Epically) to modify an adjective (good.)  I told him his grammar was excellent.  I don’t think he understood a word I was saying but he knew he was definitely on Grandma’s good side.

By the time breakfast was cleared away, the construction parade started up in earnest.  The pop-up shed they’ve been using to shelter the tile saw had to come down so an unending line of guys could march in through that door and replace the water damaged insulation down in the crawlspace.  Bella did NOT like the army of guys carrying huge rolls of insulation through the back yard.  And she REALLY didn’t like them being down in the crawlspace.  She maintained a running, barking commentary, letting us know exactly where the insulation installers under the floor were at any given moment.

Then the architect, the contractor, and Bill had a long discussion about some bathroom tile installation issues–the necessity of a bullnose trim strip in one spot and a redo of some places where the grout is too wide and so forth.  I was not part of those discussions because I was out in the kitchen with the dishwasher repairman who showed up at approximately the same time as the architect and the contractor.  The arrival of the dishwasher guy  gave Bella someone altogether new to bark at, someone who wasn’t an insulation installer.  Did I mention that she has a very sharp bark that causes my hearing aids to buzz like crazy?

And Colt was here.  He is a very good boy, but he periodically needs some directions.  I strongly suspect that there are a few new apps on my iPad that weren’t free, including a new, improved version of Angry Birds Star Wars.  I still haven’t figured out what Star Wars and birds have in common, but if you happen to be seven, it works.

We watched Harry Potter 4, Prisoner of Azkaban, and read some of Harry Potter 5, Order of the Phoenix.  We had lunch.  We had cough medicine.  We had afternoon snacks.  We found all jackets, sweaters and toys and gathered them in his to-go bag before mommy arrived at 6 PM to retrieve him.

I remember a funny poster I saw once.  It was a poster of Golda Meir.  She was, if you recall, not exactly a beauty queen, and the caption underneath her very dour photo said, “But can she type?”

So maybe you’re wondering a variation on that same thing about me today:  Did she actually do any writing?  The answer to that question is:  Yes, I did.  I finished a Beaumont novella, currently unnamed, that will be available as an e-book before Second Watch, Beaumont # 21, goes on sale next summer.

So yes, I did write some.  We had leftovers for dinner.  The grocery store trip still didn’t happen.  Bill assures me that we have sufficient supplies on hand to make waffles for Colt’s breakfast in the morning.  We had Christmas Day dinner leftovers for supper.

Today this blog is truly a window on my busy, busy world.  Now that it’s finished, I see on the computer screen that it’s eight-fifteen.  I believe it’s time to go upstairs to go to bed.  I have no idea how early the workers will be here in the morning or which ones will show up, but I’m guessing there will be a full crew here tomorrow, and they’ll be here at o-dark-thirty.

No, wait.  Did I say it’s only 8:15?  Really?  Maybe that’s a little too early to go to bed.

Scotch anyone?