Spliz: December 2007

Monday, December 17, 2007

caught in the act

"oh, No, no! we were just moving--because wasn't it you who said just yesterday that you didn't want us playing with the phone jack. No, no! Don't move! We'll do it ourselves!"

there are maybe five of you who know what I'm talking about.

Sunday, December 16, 2007

finally, some William

some help, here

Michael has started waking up two or three times in the middle of the night and coming into our room to get us.

it's exhausting.

it's mind-numbing.

it's a good reason to never ever have any more children.

Last night, by the second time I escorted him back to bed, I was too tired to do anything but fall in beside him and doze a little while he fell back asleep.

At least, I assume that's what I was doing. I don't really remember much, except thinking as I walked back to my bed some time later, "I need to write a reminder or I'm going to forget to look these things up in the morning."

So I paused by the computer desk, scribbled something on some paper, and then I assume I made it safely back to my bedroom because the next thing I remember is wanting to hide under my pillow when Michael came back.

And now I'd like to share with you what I needed to know so urgently, so frantically, so intensely, I actually paused on my way to sleep to write it down:

1. the Bolsheviks and (something something, completely illegible)
2. blind guy, Clarissa
3. get the (something) measure
4. Paula Poundstone

... I have no idea.