Tonight, I scraped every bit of beef tips and rice into a Tupperware container.
Why didn’t I just start supper sooner?
I beat myself up for not knowing the things I couldn’t have known and for not controlling the things I couldn’t control.
It’s only 6 p.m. but I could’ve had this done at 5. I didn’t need to stay out on the porch swing to watch everyone play.
We could have eaten together earlier.
The sound of the weedeater and my husband’s cellphone were synonymous as I peeked my head out of the door to tell him that supper was ready, just for him to tell me that he had been called into work.
