No, not me. The Littlest Addition. It was not a fun weekend, and not much got done. She’s not quite five months old, yet, so we’re not a hundred-percent sure she’s teething (although there’s a little bump where her top front teeth will be), but she sure as heck didn’t poop the whole weekend. Also Friday. So, we’re talking, as of this morning, about three-and-a-half days of backlog. Poor thing.
Soooo, lots of crying and howling and genuine misery. A late-night run in the bitter cold yesterday to two stores to find a tube of orajel and some teething biscuits.
Due to a laundry-list of errands and a coupla hours implementing the massive task of organizing and cleaning up the basement office, no writing was done. No reading was done, either. My father-in-law came over Saturday night, partly to visit the little ones, partly to celebrate his birthday, so there was a little oasis of fun. I also stole a little nap on Sunday afternoon, a small attempt to make a dent in the trillion-hour sleep deficit that’s surrounded and engulfed me.
Did borrow an interesting little book of a couple of greatest-this and greatest-that essays by historian of civilization and philosopher Will Durant. Subject of a blog post later in the week.
Not much else to report. I just found two early short stories (c. 1999) that are basically unpublishable that I may radically rewrite and post in a three-day cycle to make up for the Lost Weekend. Tonight, if I can steal an hour from my family, I’ll get to work on it.
LE out.
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