Quick. Somebody give me a topic to write about. I am too tired to think of one.
I am so tired. I am so super extra goddamned tired. Noah and Jason are still laid up with really bad colds, which means everyone is cranky and...well, sort of crusty. The snot pours on, my friends.
Heather is Noah's first and only babysitter. She is our friend. She is a member of our family. We would not have survived the past 18 months or so without her, and now she's moving away and I sort want to throw myself on the ground and wrap my arms around her ankles while wailing don't leeeeeave meeeeee, and then maybe lock her in our basement for awhile. And I mean that in the nicest and most non-creepy-murdery way possible.
But I won't, because I'm happy for her and her awesome new job that will pay her more than I ever made at my old job, but WHATEVER, YOU WHORE. HAVE A NICE LIFE.
(ALSO I SAVED THIS WEEK'S EPISODE OF HOUSE FOR YOU. DO YOU NEED ME TO SAVE AMERICA'S NEXT TOP MODEL TOO?)
Anyway. I am still kind of blue and unsettled. Noah's throwing a million tantrums a day, probably because he feels like shit and isn't sleeping well either, but after the 999,999th hissyfit of the day my sympathy is ALL TAPPED OUT. Seriously, son. An inability to get the fridge magnets lined up precisely to your liking is no reason to get all freaking nuclear and screamy.
Honestly, it's like he's learned NOTHING from all those episodes of Blue's Clues. Metacognition, my ass.
(DEAR HEATHER, ARE YOU FREE ON SATURDAY?)
(PS. Dead serious about the call for topics. Is hard to write interesting things when the only drama in your life is that there are only four tissues left and three hours before Jason gets home with more tissues and the beep.beep.beep.beep. clock sound from 24 is stuck in your head because dude, what if you run out of tissues? WHAT THEN? And then you remember that you could maybe use baby wipes or toilet paper or even a paper towel and you have plenty of those, so on second thought it's not very dramatic at all and maybe you should just chill the fuck out.)
(PPS. Someone is outside with a weedwhacker about three inches from my house, and I swear to God if they wake that child up from his nap I am going to go out there and whack them with this roll of paper towels.)