I just finished making dinner. Tonight, I made sautéed chicken with ravioli in mushroom sauce. The ravioli and sauce were pre-made. All else were my love for the children, who will be eating their second dinner; they eat their first dinner at our babysitter, Rosa’s, house. I know… they’re not even hobbits.
Now, I’m sitting down, finally, after an hour home from working downtown. I’m watching the second season of “Stranger Things”. It’s episode 8 and I’m already dreading the end of the season. Why can’t awesome shows have 22 episodes like all prime time shows?