Insanity is hereditary. You can catch it from your kids.
-Erma Bombeck
The library saved me today. After being up most of the night with teething baby and self-induced insomnia and Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni, I grabbed the Man's overdue library book and
Lord of the Flies (which I couldn't talk myself into rereading even for the sake of Dad's literature class), dumped Littles in the car seat, and headed out to the friendly and free land of borrowed books. Considering that I was crabby, cranky, and cross this morning and am now merely sleepy, sluggish, and sidetracked, I'd say the library did a pretty good job. I spent Little Man's nap time reading Erma Bombeck and have concluded that life is never so pulverized by a bad night's sleep to keep it from being worth laughing at. So I'm laughing. For now. But if there's a repeat performance tonight, plan B is in the works. And it includes caffeine, chocolate, and a lobotomy. For me. Not the baby.
Incidentally, my being tired required me to spell check this blog multiple times, but it in no way impaired my talent for alliteration.
Add a cup of coffee bought with the money I didn't have to spend on library fines (how could you fine this face?) and I think we're in business. Yay for book happiness!
