It is a dreary, rainy Tuesday in Indiana. This morning Liberty woke around six to tell me she was hungry. (We're not normally up until about 7:30 most mornings. Yay for me! You were probably up much earlier this morning, but six is hard for me.) We kissed Daddy goodbye, then Mercy woke up. Mercy's my sleep-in girl, so that was a surprise. After breakfast, the girls asked if they could play in the rain. I looked at the chores to be done inside, quickly agreed to their plan, and out we went.

We thoroughly enjoyed watching the garbage truck do its dumpster-lifting trick. Thoroughly. The garbage man must have enjoyed our cheers and shrieks of delight because he kept smiling and waving at us. I wonder if he's ever so validated in his work as he is when he shows up at our apartment building?

After a while, I retrieved my Bible and prayer journal and sat on the covered patio in a lawn chair, thinking I might be able to concentrate on my time with God while the girls splashed in puddles and rode their bikes up and down the sidewalk. The drops pounding down into our personal patio puddle quickly showed me in no uncertain terms who was boss of the patio. The short answer was Not Me, and I had to take my books back inside.

We are now back inside, too. The rain continues to splash a soothing percussion outside our windows, and the girls are playing happily together in their "dog house" made of cushions, chairs and blankets. The Newsies soundtrack plays cheerily in the background, while I valiantly push onward in my quest to become the next Miss Procrastination USA.

Household chores, who needs 'em?