L: Mom, can I call my friend and ask if I can go for a sleep over there?
Me: No it’s Father’s Day tomor…. never mind. Go ahead.
Yeah. Father’s Day doesn’t have the same meaning anymore. And now I get to hurt because for a moment, I forgot.
I got the downstairs kitchen cleaned in the process of trying to distract myself from the hurt.
AND found the source of the smell I’ve been trying to track down for the last few days.
Mark watching over us again, I suppose – if it wasn’t for that random trigger – I wouldn’t have cleaned up the kitchen, and I wouldn’t have found that the burner was on and melting the cooler sitting on it. It was a fire danger… and now we’re safe.
Happy Father’s Day Mark. We miss you.