Man I am slammed with work. Submissions to read, 2 short stories I want to finish, an essay I must finish for a book, a novel I that the goal was to finish by summer. I keep having school stuff to do. Stop requiring things of me, students.

Yesterday, dropping Kinsey off at school, she had a huge meltdown when I tried to leave. I think she probably sense that I kinda don't want to leave. I don't usually do drop-off. Pickup's a whole nother story.

Yes, the above two things are related.

While Kinsey's stopping and flapping her fists and screaming and clinging to my leg as I lunge for the door, I'm thinking about how the last half hour I spent with her at school was time I could've stolen away in order to work, and at the same time I'm thinking how I just want to stay there with my little girl and/or leave school altogether and take her to the park and blow off work.

When I was a kid every adult said that being a kid was a hell of a lot better than being an adult. I don't know. I remember hating it when my parents left.