The bad mood persists. Heavy breathers on the phone, unsolicited gropings, lurking lurkers at closing time. Last night, the hiss and burble of the beer fermentor permeated the insulation of the pillow jammed over my head, and the re-captured gargoyle cat used the sound as cover for her manic screen-ripping. In the early morning, I staggered out of bed with the muzzy determination to lob the cat at the fermentor, and discovered that it was about to blow up (the beer, not the cat). Located the man, who had fallen asleep under the Order of the Phoenix in the boy's room, and resigned myself to the coffee pot while he ran by with syphoning hoses and towels. Have not slept more than 5 hours a night for over a week. Have begun trembling slightly, and yesterday my heart stopped beating for just a moment. Thumped my chest a bit to get it going again. Disconcerting.
On the plus side, the boy has returned from Granny's house, longer of leg and richer of useless magnetic plastic toys! And the infink has conquered the potty! The couch clears its throat tersely, having a slightly different opinion on the matter. Shut up, couch, we are diaper-free now, and that is very nearly the same thing as potty-trained.
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