End of Month. End of Week. End of...?

...Patience? Strength? Sanity? Stress? Who knows what the weekend will bring.

In my normal ass-backward way, I managed to dodge a time-eating bullet this evening. I thought my friend's birthday party was tomorrow night, and was trying to figure out how I could get my contribution to the pot luck cooked in time without losing what's left of my mind. I have a gift already--it was the food making me nuts.

Well, another friend just called to ask if I planned to come there for karaoke. I begged off. I'm tired, and thought I had all this preparation to do and then the party tomorrow night. He started laughing. Oh crap. I did it again. It's NEXT weekend. I'm a very relieved idiot.

This also leaves tomorrow night available to go hear another friend's band play at our favorite bar. The kind of place where you can get up and dance by yourself or with other women without anyone thinking its weird. Ya know? That's why it's my favorite bar.

My karaoke buddies work there during the week, so want to go elsewhere on a Saturday. That's okay. I can go by myself. I'm a big girl now.

Sunday morning Steph will (finally) do my hair. I feel shaggy, and the color is tired. I'll come out a new woman, and ready to face the nursing home again on a Sunday afternoon.

Which reminds me: Grandma's laundry isn't going to wash itself.

This isn't the life I planned on--it's the one I got.