I have ten minutes to write this post.
As I write this post, my daughter is insisting I take our puppy out even though I just took him out and I have ten minutes to write this post.
I just took a minute to tie shoes because we have to leave in less than ten minutes to get to tumbling classes, our new Friday commitment (what was I thinking?!)
I've scarfed down an early dinner because I won't want to cook after 7 and I'll be starving or I would have been if I didn't eat so much Irish soda bread we baked after school to redeem the horrible loaf we made on Wednesday (never rose- must have left out the baking soda).
And now it's 7 minutes to write this post.
"Help!" from the basement. Oh no- this will definitely cut into the 6 remaining minutes I have to say something interesting, relevant, wise or profound.
Now the puppy won't leave the basement and there are 5 minutes to go.
Four minutes to go and now I'm feeling the pressure that this post has gone nowhere.
I had ten minutes to write this post.
My daughter wants to leave early so there goes my remaining 3 minutes.
Kathleen Neagle Sokolowski