Day 7 - Crashed

Now that I'm not fending grubby hands away from my mouse, ignoring jumping on the bed, having a snotty nose wiped on my shoulder, changing diapers, fretting about my still-"almost"-but-not-quite-approved funrun that is supposed to be in 5.5 weeks, peeking into the frontroom to make sure the MIA roommate isn't in actuality petrified in there somewhere, or spelling words or nagging on homework ... I'm too tired to write. I actually fell asleep on the bed after getting Fynn down around 7, vaguely remember a goodnight kiss from D around 8, and woke up at 9:30 to M wondering aloud if he should go to the studio and reminding me that i might want to blog. I still feel that sluggish, don't wanna be awake but forcing myself brain fuzz, and am inclined to obey it's heavy tentacles and do just that. You know that almost-sleepwalking state where if you don't move too quickly or hear a loud noise, you just might be able to slip right back in the cocoon and catch another few minutes? I'm giving in ...