Tired

Sleep deprivation — the poor man’s antidepressant — works great for me. I stay up all night, and voila, I am less depressed. Of course, I also end up taking naps on the office floor. Worth it, though.

In other good news, our community rec dept added another swimming class in OldestOne’s age range, so starting next week he’ll be swimming on Monday nights. Yay.

And on this note, I am going to drag my tired, over-caffeinated butt to bed. On the agenda: reading Jim Butcher’s “Death Masks” and turning out the lights as soon as Husband bathes the kids and YoungestOne shows up in our bedroom demanding to sleep in our bed.

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