It's 1:43, when it should be 12:43, but I've already complained about that, and I need to accept what I can not change. My body is satisfyingly sore from hard-core basketball last night. For nearly 2 hours straight, my coworker and I took on 3 wily boys who are just a wee bit better than us on the court. I want to say that she or I made at least one basket, but no, we did not, in 2 hours. However, we did successfully keep these boys out of the house, out of each other's faces, and thoroughly entertained until it was time for bed. One thing that, no, two things that trip me out about basketball. First, damn, there is a lot of contact. How do you play with no contact? How do I play without getting hurt as much? Second, why does basketball make so much spit?
In other non-spit related news, this has been a crazy week. My name is now officially restored, my work has been politically insane, and I had an intense conversation that seals the rightness of everything happening now. I even may go public with my blog here. I don't feel the need to hide as much as I did. Though I still wish it was an hour earlier like it's supposed to be.