The house is hot. Borderline/approaching/flirting with fairly miserable. We've got window units in the bedrooms, but not in the main area, and every year around this time I wonder why I choose to live so very sweatfully.
As bad as it is, opening the computer armoire to do the blog felt like opening the doors to a blast oven. (because if there's one action I'm constantly doing, it's opening doors to random blast ovens. I'm not sure I even know what a blast oven is...) We're trying to do better about turning the computer off all the time, but it's been running for a bit, and throwing wide the doors unleashed a tsunami of hot air. And then to make it worse I went to foxnews.com...zing! (In the interest of bipartisanship, that punchline could just have well been michaelmoore.com)
Abby's official bedtime tonight was 10:19. This was the time that I put her down the third, and up until now final, time. The previous two did not end successfully. The second time was annoying, as I'd really only had the time to clean the house and nothing else, so I did the lazy thing and plopped her and myself in front of the tv. "O Brother Where Art Thou?" was on, and that movie tops a lot of my lists, so we watched it for a while. Even while she played nicely and watched tv nicely and babbled cutely to me, I clung to that anger of having an insomniatic kid. What finally broke me was when she laughed at the movie, during that part at the end when George Clooney, Tim Blake Nelson, and John Turturro are singing while wearing fake beards.
I think it was the fake beards that did it.
Today, for chronicling's sake, we went to our friends' Maia and Justin's baby shower, which was a lot of fun, then over to Steve's graduation party, also fun, but by the end we were sick of being outside (both were). This was followed by some mediocre naps, and now Jen is out watching A Chorus Line while I'm sweating to the bloggy.
Day one hundred and twenty five.
Every muscle in her face is screaming, "Pick me up!! Now!"
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