Hiatus, in case you were wondering about that, is a word meaning "gap," especially a break in a series. So, because my journal is nothing but a serial (oh, how Dickensian of me!) it is quite the appropriate noun.
Mom learned a new moniker yesterday meant to help children manage their relationships as well as their schoolwork: time-robber. It's not in the dictionary, but it applies to anything that keeps you from doing what you want to do, or are supposed to do. It can be a person or activity, so you can say to someone, "You're being a time-robber right now." I must say, it seems rather accusatory, although I might be sensitive on the thievery angle.
Monday, 5:10 p.m. Mom frantically preparing dinner so my sister can get to her next activity. Just the opportunity to grab some delicious homemade tomato, fresh ricotta and basil sauce. While Mom is scooping my dry, drab dog food, I scoop the sauce container from the counter, bring it over to a comfy rug, and dive in. Good thing I'm quick, because so is Mom, and she was not pleased. I don't get it: the rug is red, the sauce is red. Problem?
Tuesday, 1:30 p.m. Go through a few play-bows with Barney the beagle to get him all dizzy, then snag his stuffed squirrel and trot off with it before he could even howl. Give it a few shakes to get the dust off, then drop it just out of his reach. Satisfying.
Wednesday, 12:30 p.m. Leftover pizza, sausage sauce. Yum!
Fortuitously, on our latest outing in the town forest, Mom came upon the guy who does our carpet cleaning. She dropped several hints hoping he'd volunteer to come over and fix the tomato-sauce mess. It wasn't really fair, considering that's his business. And what better business for a carpet cleaner than to know lots of people with dogs? Think of it in a positive way: I'm helping to support the local economy.