My baby is almost eight -- just two weeks from today. I'm not sure how that happened.
I'm almost 43 -- that's just a month away and I'm really not sure how that happened.
It's almost the weekend and tonight the guys are going to some Nascar race thing and I get the house to myself for the evening.
I'm almost ready to start a new exercise program that will for sure be the answer to all my problems. I'm almost ready to kill my beagle if he doesn't stop barking at whatever is outside. I'm almost ready to tackle a bunch of problems at work, as soon as I post this. Almost done with the laundry, almost ready to clean out the attic.
Almost. Honestly I thought there would be a lot less almosts in my life by this time. But they seem to multiply as we go along. I'm almost sure that's not exactly a bad thing.