To Rugby or Not to Rugby

A week ago, we were still dangling around here, in between large beers, Indian restaurants (some Portuguese ones too) and freedom.

Son#1 has a rugby tournament somewhere today, but it's still raining cats and dogs.

I had a tough night:  Son#3 crept into my bed in the wee hours, wide awake and happy.

Several trips back to his room followed.

Sigh.

Then when Son#2 with his loud voice, feet and door-closing-techniques followed at 6 a.m., I decided that that had been enough for one day.

Now it's just past 10 in the morning, and we could technically be at the tournament by 11, but I'm not sure I could manage that.

I have exams coming up and work to actually DO (not just faff about or postpone), time I'd like to spend with my husband, kids and mother, doctors appointments to make.

My thyroid is giving up, methinks.

But that's already far too much for one measly Sunday morning.

Now to ponder over the rugby while I still sip my coffee in my pajamas.

Aaaaah, Sunday.

Sunday.

.