(Note: This is my post for 4/13, but things kept coming up and I wasn't able to finish/post it till today)
I took the day off work today. It was like a Saturday. A normal family Saturday, not our typical one. Both parents home. Ryan worked on the house while the boys and I went through their toys and sorted out the ones to donate away and the ones to pitch. Then I tried to sort the remaining ones into small clear tubs instead of the two larger cloth bins we had been using. I know that by the end of the week everything will be unsorted, but I felt better having made the effot and having gotten rid of things we no longer need.
I feel like I'm running out of things to write about. I have a lot of lines still, but I'm really having trouble forming them into complete ideas. I'm working on something about expectations. Expectations other people put on us. Something about a box... not fitting in a box. My line is
"How can I fit into something that's only in your mind?"
But all the other stuff that goes with it is lame. Maybe it's just a question for myself and not really supposed to be a poem.