The Dog

Its really quite late for us to be up on a Sunday night. We don't want to go to bed because then it means it will be tomorrow and tomorrow is the day Bry goes for his knee surgery.

Maybe if we stay up all night tomorrow will never come. I won't have to leave him at the hospital and rush away to take Arlo to nursery and he won't have to be alone in hospital waiting for his operation. And neither of us would have to deal with the frustration that will come from Bry being unable to move for a good few weeks. And my lovely husband wouldn't have to be in pain.

But it doesn't work like that, does it? Tomorrow always comes whether we like it or not. It turns into today. And we all have to deal with today, no matter what it tries to chuck at us.

Oof.