I did not buy decaf coffee beans over the weekend.

It was homecoming weekend and we visited the cafe. We sat holding warm paper cups between our soft palms and saying sentences that started with remember when? I walked out sipping my (decaf) café mocha and thinking, I don't need decaf at home. It's the caffeine that I miss, why spend twelve dollars on a pound of lifeless beans?

Sitting here, looking out at the first sunny morning in weeks, my hands are empty, my lips are dry – and I'm regretting my decision. I'll just keep telling myself it's not so bad - only 8 more months until I'm brewing the good stuff in a hospital room while cradling my newborn. This is worth it.

At least the boss seems to be acting more like himself again. He's in his car, happily babbling to himself and not screaming for my attention. Maybe he needs a little breathing room after spending a weekend in Grandma's arms.

Now, the trick is to use this time that he's self-entertained to accomplish writing…and unfortunately, I can't put my blog in the packet for my professor in a few weeks...so, off to work.