What she neglected to tell me was that the milk went all over the photos on the counter. Why were they on the counter? Because I was trying to declutter, except I was being interrupted every ten minutes because Little Mr. Thing did not want to be put down. At all.

So basically all of my dishtowels are piled up in the laundry room, slowly souring, while mopping my floor is apparently going to have to wait until possibly the next millenium. The photos are in decent shape, thank heavens, though I later discovered that the dog ripped apart the trash bag I was using for the decluttering project. Not because there was food inside. Because there were used tissues in there.

I hate dogs. I hate children. I hate people who whine incessantly about crying babies, because let me tell you, it's no picnic for the parents either. (And in some instances, I frankly think the babies are probably more mature. What is it with adults who fucking whine all the time? I mean, really, does the world owe them favors that it somehow does not owe the rest of us?) I hate myself for being so cranky about a sick baby and a kid who is honestly doing her best.

I did manage a nap. I had to nap while holding a baby, but truthfully, there is nothing more conducive to a nap than an eight pound baby snoozing away on your chest. That was pretty okay. And Leah, being all involved with the doll house, did not nag me about watching TV, or about anything at all, really. KC came home and made dinner, and the baby is actually sleeping on his bouncer seat and has done so for more than fifteen minutes at one time, poor thing.

This probably means it will be a long night. But I got several DVDs for Christmas: Pirates, of course, but I also got Super Troopers (my brother is determined to get me to watch it, hee), Walk the Line (from Leah) and the entire series run of Coupling, which means many hours of fun. (In the case of the last, there is a danger of waking the household while laughing uncontrollably; the Spiderman dance does it every damn time.) So at the very least I will not be held captive to yet another Nick at Nite Fresh Prince marathon or endless informercials telling me how fat or ugly or broke I am. If I wanted to feel that bad about myself I'd go get a facial or a manicure, for heaven's sake. (What's with that, anyway? Those people are mean.)

Now, I just have to wait patiently for January 2nd, when I can take my house back from the holidays. I am officially over Christmas decorations. My living room is small enough without the Santa bomb exploded all over it!