Wacky weekend
The Wife was gone the better part of Saturday, and apparently, she took all the good luck in the house with her. The following happened in about a 64-minute period Saturday morning:

The Boy, continuing his destructive streak, broke a bowl that was very precious to The Wife. Her parents received the bowl as a wedding gift. Her parents divorced when The Wife was 2.

The Boss calls to tell me the FBI captured Eric Rudolph. I had to do a quick mental archive search on "Who's Eric Rudolph?" Big breaking news around here, apparently. I begin making preparations to try to find a place to leave the children so I can go to work.

While I'm cleaning up the bowl, a hose becomes disconnected under the sink, spewing dishwasher sewage all over the kitchen.

About the time I exhausted the list of possible babysitters and began making mental preparations to take all three kids to work with me, sanity began to prevail. The folks at work scaled back their plans a bit, making my presence unnecessary in anything other than a virtual form. (Woo, technology!) The plumbing issue proved to be an easy fix. The Wife's still crushed about her bowl, but it's another in a long list of things The Boy has destroyed. (He's not willful or vicious, by the way; most of the destruction is accidental.)

So you have to figure that Sunday will be better. We're all set to head to the Western Edge to visit a friend from Texas who's attending a seminar in St. Petersburg. Then, Sunday came, time got away from us, the schedules wouldn't mesh, and we got about 20 miles from home before we became convinced it wouldn't be worth anybody's time.

I'm unaccustomed to Stuff Not Working Out on this radical of a level. I'm spoiled, certainly. It's been a while since I've had a weekend become so clusterfucked.

We yanked it back on track toward the end, with a family trip to the mini-golf course and a solid dose of ice cream. But it's been a while since I've sat here on a Sunday night thinking, "Man, I'm glad that's over."