There are so many houseflies this year. And I have terrible aim. Also I have terrible depth perception. I'm guessing those are totally related.
The humidity has sucked my last four remaining brain cells out of my head. With them have gone the following: energy, motivation, ability to form complete sentences, and also the capability to fold and put away laundry. Fortunately I still have an appetite.
My children are suffering from an entirely intolerable affliction: not staying asleep when it is dark out. Also not going to bed ::cough cough::Miss O::cough:: Elliott is teething and learning to walk which is causing some sort of non-sleeping stress in him. He wakes up very upset about 45 minutes after he falls asleep, and nurses frantically, then will go back to sleep for 45 more minutes if I put him back in his bed... but if I don't, he will doze for a moment or two and then smack me in the face whilst laughing maniacally until I wake up to play with him. It. is. brutal. Henry B has been growing like a weed (LIKE A WEED, not GROWING WEED, he's three for Lord's sake), and that is causing him to be very needy, resulting in a desire to have his back rubbed whilst lying on top of me. This would not be so inconvenient if I were not breastfeeding around the bloody clock. Should it happen that I am engaged in the act of breastfeeding when he MUST!!! HAVE!!! HIS!!! BACK!!! RUBBED!!! he will throw himself on the nearest flat surface and kick and wail and tear his clothes and don sack-cloth and put ashes on his head until he passes out from exhaustion or until I am finished with Elliott.
Good times, people, good times.
Miss O also comes into our room at random intervals to fetch her
stupid, enormous, wretched sweet kitty. Or get in bed with us, and I don't know about you, but nothing makes me feel like cuddling more than sleeping with a 7.5 year old human goat. So nice, and softy, except for the ELBOWS. AND KNEES. AND FEET. AND HEAD BONES. Gah. And when she comes for the cat? She stands by my side of the bed, snapping her fingers and clicking her teeth at the cat. AND THE CAT NEVER ACKNOWLEDGES HER, even if she stands there for, say, ten minutes, which she will, because the cat does not take kindly to being picked up and moved.
Fortunately, it is only I who am bothered by these nighttime rompings. The Mister, bless his heart, sleeps like the dead. Not like the actual dead, but the sort of Mac Truck Snoring Lip Smacking Teeth Chewing Long-Legged Dead, which might be worse than sleeping with an actual dead person. Because you could probably shove an actual dead person out of the bed, and the actual dead person would kindly be very quiet and let you try to sleep in peace, same as they are.
I'm tired. My head still hurts. Things are making me cry, and people, I am not a cry-er. I am taking things personally and reading into unreturned phone calls, being not invited and people's busyness. My friends are busy and wah, wah, wah, they are doing other things like taking their kids to the hospital for tonsil removal, or taking their kids to day camp, or having obstetric appointments, or going camping, or this or that or the other thing. I have friends RIDDLED WITH AUDACITY, I tell you.
Points will be awarded to people whose comments make me laugh. And bonus points for wet drawers. Conversely, I will likely kick your teeth in if you even suggest that I want my husband dead. That's all.