i have a million things that i should be doing right now. Editing a huge stack of manuscript pages. Or laundry. Or breaking up a cat fight in the other room. (but it’s low level hissing, and I’m not that worried yet.)

Instead I am on strict nap duty. Waiting… waiting… waiting until the two littlest boys fall asleep. If I wander off, they sense my distraction and abandon all pretense of ever falling asleep. Yes, they can sense it all the way from in their bedrooms. They’re good like that.

So. I’m dutifully here.

I have passed the time by taking grainy photos with my phone. Apparently, there is nothin much going on here in the living room.

It’s a Red-Balloon-in-the-Ceiling-Fan-Kind-of-Day. Of course it is.  Specifically, Seth-4yr’s red balloon. Yeah. He turned the fan on. Twice. It’s really, really stuck.

Last week there was a teeny, tiny crack in this wall. Some people in this house thought it hardly noticeable. I was not one of those people. It bugged me, that teeny tiny crack. But. Ha! I showed that crack what-for.  It was really bugging me. Now it just screams “I am FIXED. Or, getting fixed, if she’d ever finish this job. And? Did she NEED all that mesh tape and 9 pounds of joint compound? Overkill…?”

This weekend an important discovery was made. Or, a bright red one, at least. Once all the laundry on the Laundry Table  (the kids just laugh if it’s ever called the “Breakfast Table” so I don’t even bother anymore.) was conquered — and I do mean conquered — a bright red Christmas tree was unearthed. It’s not small. At least two feet tall, this Christmas tree. Seth-4yr likes to wear it as a hat whenever it isn’t buried under at least two feet of clean laundry begging to be folded.   Anyway. Here it is.  The January 18, just discovered Christmas tree.  At least the laundry’s done.

Are those kids sleeping yet…? No. Of course not.   A minute ago I went into Seth-4yr’s room and said, “Go to sleep or I take the penguin.”  I didn’t smile when I said it.

He said, “Oh. Where will you take him? He might really yike to go.”

There’s a penguin next to me on the couch now. He really ‘yiked’ this little trip, I think.

And now, onward to the floor. There’s a dog, who really isn’t feeling well. I always thought the dog’s name was Duke. Turns out, that’s his alias. In preparing him for a trip to the vet with my mom, Mike went and grabbed his official “super pedigreed hotshot from South Dakota dog paperwork.” And there…? On the paperwork….? Is Duke’s real name. He was just telling us his name was Duke so we wouldn’t laugh at him. But now I know. And I’ve been laughing. Even though he’s sick. The other Texan hunting dogs would howl if they knew. So don’t tell them. His official name is Glacial Lakes Chugas Duke.  I don’t know who would name a dog that. That is just. not. right. And he’s a BROWN dog, which kinda makes the ‘Glacial’ part seem even worse. Poor baby.

Anyway. Here’s “Sir Chugas:”

Also on the floor, for who knows what reason, a screw and a yellow Lego Man head, sportin’ some shades against the sea of blinding, endless beige carpet.

But hey…?!  I think there’s some nap action going on, so maybe all this is worthwhile.

Well. Maybe not.