*midweek madness.

We've been in production at The Place That Pays the Mortgage, and I've edited an issue for The Place That Keeps the Lights On, and I've completed a project for The Place That Will Be Invaluable Should the Dead and Blighted Tree Finally Turn Its Kamikaze Effort to the Woodside Roof.

And motherfather I'm exhausted. Go on, world. Go on with your bad self, with your apostrophes in all the wrong places



and your inappropriate quotation marks



and your egregious spelling mishaps.



Because I am tired. I am tired and I am busy. Busybusybusybusy. Just ask J.



He knows that my frenetic pace has kept me glued to the computer screen, unable to mercilessly pester him as he attempts to nap.

I have tasks to tackle, social functions to grace, lawns to mow, and unmentionables to launder.



I certainly didn't have the sort of time on my hands this weekend to be sitting in my pajamas on the sofa at noon, taking wonky portraits of an increasingly irritated dog.



Yikes.

OK, back to "work."