I’ve come to this screen, like, a kajillion times already.  I just have no inspiration today.  Nothing has ired me, nothing has moved me.  Really, I’m just so done, it’s ridiculous.

I passed on Book Club last night, which sucked BIG OLE DONKEY BALLS, but as I realized I was fixing to pass out while bathing that chile o’ mine, I was glad I was at least going to pass out on MY kitchen floor, and not Caroline’s.  Cause Lord knows I’d probably lose any control over bodily functions. 

I really thought that I was better yesterday.  It was foolishness, pure and simple.  I worked till 4:30, made it home by 5:20.  Thought I was good to go for a well-deserved meal of a baked potato and salad, courtesy of my friendly Steak-Out.

Oh, Sarah, how your bowels deceive you!

I didn’t even make it through the potato.

SO, now that I’ve ruined your desire to EVER eat a baked potato again (more for me!), I feel compelled to tell you that I had one of the moments where I (momentarily) completely sympathized with mammals who eat their young. 

I love my son very much.  But last night, something was off. (Honestly, I wouldn’t doubt that he has a touch of my bug.) And when I say off, I mean that he wanted to wake up and party every two hours.  While this would suck with BOTH parents there, it sucked VERY MUCH with just the one parent there (ME).  Especially when said parent is still sick.  Yes, I sympathized with those mammals who eat their young, and I contemplated what marinade I would use.

(Raspberry Chipotle.  Costco special.)

And how would I eat my baby, you ask? 

Caroline knows.  (I SO MISSED BOOK CLUB LAST NIGHT.)