There Should Be a Time Limit

It is just after 1:15 in the morning, and I am sitting here trying to keep myself awake.  I have to go get Jim at the airport.  His flight was delayed, and instead of getting in at midnight – which is late enough, thank you very much – he is getting in at 2:15 AM.  I am tired.  I’ve been up since about 6:15, I ran some errands, did some laundry, cleaned a room, and really could have gone to bed hours ago.  I would have gone up and probably fallen asleep, but Brighid had some kids over, and I couldn’t leave Granuaile with them without some adult supervision.  As it was, she ate too much junk and ended up puking on the floor – not a lot, just enough so we knew she was full to the gills with junk food.

But anyway, I think there should be a cut off of 1 AM.  If the flight can’t get in by 1, which gets us in the door before 2 AM, then he has to take a cab home.  Because it’s not enough that I have to drag my tired bones out of the house this late, but I have to leave the kids this late, and that makes me uncomfortable.  And then he’ll want to come home and talk, get something to eat and drink, try to get some additional attention, and I won’t get to sleep before 4 AM.

The first time this weekend he says he’s tired of hearing how tired I am, I might beat him to death with a rolling pin.  And I’m planning the funeral for a decent hour of the day.