So, today was my nephew's first soccer game of the season. He has not had a single practice, and was given his uniform ten minutes before the game started. There were only six players on his team, so they were a bit overmatched, and no one got rotated out. Eventually, a seventh player joined in, so it was seven players to seven. But that did not help. The score was thirteen to zero. My nephew's dad was there, but after halftime or so, he walked away in disgust, no longer able to handle the shame. I believe he went out to the parking lot to look for a seppuku sword.
I did try to write at the game, but as the boy was never benched once, I got very little writing done. After that, the whole family (except for my sister, who usually doesn't participate in such things) went to my father's house to try to clean out the tin garage, where he kept forty years' worth of junk. And dust. My brother works a great deal on the house and property, and he got it into his head to load up the old truck with the wet, rotting firewood that had been stacked up for decades behind the house. I tried to help him with that, but as the hours went on, I became more and more useless to him* because of my aching ribs and natural flab.
It was muddy and dirty and pretty demanding physical labor (we'd fill the bed of the truck up as high as it would go with wood, then head off to the junk yard to unload it, then come back and start again. Rinse and repeat), and now that I am home, I have already dozed off once while editing next week's That Gets My Goat. I worry I will end up writing very little. Again.
Words Today: 616
Words Total: 17,374
*More useless than the usual, is what I mean. I'm sure you were thinking the same thing.
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