Yesterday was one of those days that just sucked donger. Why? I don't know! I was really, really tired, for no reason I could discern. Colette was being extra annoying. Sylvie, who has had a not awful, but irksome cough for a while, spiked a fever last night. One child barbarically BIT another. None of the big ones could agree on where to sleep. Oh, and I have been pregnant forever, my
freaking leg is starting to be ache, and I am going to be pregnant for another 93 years. Any of these things are completely and totally normal and manageable but yesterday I just could not face any of them without being a screaming lunatic bee-yotch. I had to sit on the driveway in the dark for a while just to regain my composure.
But today? I woke up and was my normal happy-ish self again! Sylvie had slept through the night, and the nurse I called just told me to keep an eye on her. The sun was shining; I didn't hate Tulsa; I got an email from an old contact in Portland, which made me very happy; and all the monsters were getting along reasonably well.
So what gives? Is it just the hormones? Or am I mildly schizophrenic? Beats me.
And now for more that has nothing to do with anything: I know that Marc Jacobs is uber-cool, but please don't buy this bag. It just screams Dalmation, now, doesn't it?
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