My husband has been off work all week.  This is a rare treat, you see, because even though the man has plenty of vacation time to burn, he either needs a major holiday or the typhoid fever to convince him to take some time off. Fortunately, circumstances beyond his control required a week off.

Some women might dread such an event. Others might be jealous they, too, didn't get a week off.

But not me, mind you. Oh no. *I* did not have the week off. But I have not cared. Because I have been liberated.

Get this. I got to get in my car each morning and go straight to work. No stop at daycare. No prying a four-year-old off my leg because he is protesting daily nap time and therefore refuses to attend another single day of daycare.  There have been absolutely no trips back home to retrieve someone's forgotten lunch and deliver it to school. Nope, I got in my car and I drove directly to work. And it was sooooooooo relaxing.  That. Never. Happens.

Ever.

My house is clean. On a Thursday! The laundry is done. Even a tiny little project I haven't managed to find the time to do over the last year and a half got done. And best of all... I didn't have to do any of it! That. Never. Happens.

Ever.

I am on top of things. And I haven't done anything at all.

Children were picked up from school and taken to various appointments. The whole week's worth of third grade homework was completed by Wednesday. Errands were run. Valentines were purchased for class parties (and not the night before Valentine's Day!) And I didn't have to do any of it. That. Never. Happens.

Ever.

Yep. The hubs had the week off. Which means... I managed to finish two of the four books I'm reading and even sneak in the latest episode of Dallas. That. Never. Happens.

Ever. Ever. Ever.

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