Heh. I actually like to see the levels of crazy I went through yesterday. Today. Whatever. All I know is I just got up, and the building sinus headache (big storm coming) is not as bad as the mood swings I was having earlier.
Maybe if I push my fingers right INTO my eyeballs, it’ll make it feel better. Nope, that didn’t work. Of course, it’s always good to pet the cat you’re most allergic to (Adah, although I’m allergic to both of them) and then rub your eyes in a brisk manner. I don’t call it puffy, I call it sexy.
Barrels of fun (I typoed rum! Much better!) at Chez Yarnagogo. I’m actually not really that bad. Just enjoying a little sulk. Not enough time off — I hate getting up and then getting ready for work an hour and a half later (I go to bed as soon as I get home) — that’s barely time enough to read email and respond, let alone do any of the writing that’s really calling me. Let ALONE watch that Amazing Race episode sitting in my TiVo, singing my name.
Not. Enough. Time. In. The. Day.
And officially, I say, as I always do, I DO NOT KNOW HOW MOTHERS DO IT. Mimi Smartypants (see the introspective) says it well today. Y’all are saints, and just the fact that I can perch a cup of hot coffee on my couch while I type and worry only about the cats paws and not someone’s little hands getting burned right off is something I think about.
And THIS made me really happy today.
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