I am dead tired. Like fall-asleep-and-get-in-a-car-crash tired. The culprit is insomnia. The other night I was up for three hours with the darkest, most awful thoughts about my children getting hurt.
The problem is our upcoming (well, not for a month, but it's never too early to start stewing) trip to Mexico to visit my mom. Her house teeters high on a hill with nothing but a low wall separating my monkey-twins from the abyss. In the dark of night all I can imagine is them climbing up and over. And I won't even write what comes to mind next because it is too awful to repeat.
Adding to it all is the damn Secret, which urges you to believe that you can think things into being (everything from new cars, to illness). And while I think it is absolute self-centered drivel designed to keep people from actually doing anything productive to help others, change the world, or improve their situations, it has somehow wormed its way into my consciousness. So now, while my worst and darkest mind its doing its whole baroque melodrama, I am not only lying awake praying for sleep, I am bargaining with the Universe not to take my unruly thoughts too seriously. It's exhausting.
A thing I like
Bargain gift alert: I just ordered the cutest vintage barrettes from Kitchen Table Studios. $7! You still have time, but hurry! She enclosed a free pair of earrings as a thank you. When was the last time Target did that?