How does sleep crust anyways?

Wow, first of all I’m not sure precisely what I did to my hair to make it mad but I promise I will never do it again. How short hair can manage to flatten -and- stick up at the same time is a miracle of modern science. Or at least of modern shampoo.

So I’m struggling to wake up this morning. I slept well and deeply, only waking up when  TT climbed into bed around 5 am. I evicted him within 30 minutes and we both slept until ten this morning so score! I am still groggy though, yawning and curling up in my chair to stare and drool out of the window while sesame street drones in the background.

I still have things to do today, like do a final edit on my rambling essay and pray that it’s not eviscerated too much by my teacher. I finally got the first essay  back in my hot hands and I just want to smack him. He’s against compound sentences  in any form even those that are correctly made. I just want to grab his green pen and stab him with it. Whatever, I get a week to revise these papers so I made the corrections he said and am turning it in to raise it from a B to an A.  I will admit that his hard handed, hard -headed- grading process only makes me want to work less on this essay because…holy moley I revised that last one 7 times and only got a flipping B. But I want a good grade so edit I shall.

Then I should pick up and clean around here a bit so that it stops looking like a glorified bachelor’s pad. Which it was for a long time before I moved in, and should be painted up and fixed as soon as the weather stops fluxing all over the place like it has some sort of mental disease. Which will nicely co-inside with faire season which means painting shouldn’t happen until oh…summer. However the tragic procrastination that is dogging the decorating of the house should not extend to the up-keeping and cleaning of said house.

Of course this would all be easier if I wasn’t chasing after the Tiny Terror. I’ve caught him getting into his dad’s candy on his desk and then when I put him to bed he began to mangle one of the cats in there. I’m starting to get the feeling that he’s never going to learn and he’ll never get any of his toys back. I know, I know, he’s three and I have to remember that, but come on..when does this stuff start sinking into his tiny little peabrain? I don’t want him to clean the house or work for cheap labor..I just want him to stop getting into stuff that isn’t his and stop torturing the cats! Oh and to pee on the potty. I’m thinking that those three agenda’s aren’t the hardest things in the world. Especially since we’re talking about a boy who fills up a sixty gallon toy bin and a twenty gallon toy bin by himself! It’s not like he has a shortage of -his own stuff-.

I’m not asking for him to fall over in appreciation for all the things we give him, but to just leave the things he -knows- he’s not allowed into alone. Candy, makeup, cleaning supplies, that sort of thing. ArrghhH!

My train of thought is totally derailed. I’m going to go sit on the couch, finish a law and order, edit my paper, grab a nap and go to school. Tomorrow he’ll get it right? Right?


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