Eight o’clock rolls around and the house finally starts to sound like it’s winding down, but my brain hasn’t gotten the memo. I look at my Fitbit like it personally betrayed me, because somehow it still says zero steps. Zero.…
I don’t know if your home but five o’clock hits different in this house. It’s like the whole day shifts gears the second David walks back through that door. He doesn’t announce it. He doesn’t make a big deal out…
Four o’clock in this house has a very specific sound. It’s the sound of keys hitting the table, the dogs losing their minds like David’s been gone for six months instead of six hours, and C already halfway to the…
