Dylan has effectively neutralized me. I am like some kind of lump of something that sits there lumpily. I haven't slept in two nights and I keep drifting off while, for example, sitting on the kitchen floor watching Dylan carefully remove every magnet from the fridge and put it in one of four bowls she has lined up on the floor, for what I can only assume is some kind of nefarious purpose. Perhaps witchcraft. I realized today that she might be getting her last set of molars, rather than trying to torture me just for torture's sake. The previous set of molars took a month to come in. I'm out of practice at the teething thing since it's been a while, but remind me, is there any way to make it stop?
Aaron is over there across the table being highly efficient because of his deadline at midnight tonight (something about a glass slipper...) and he's making me look bad. I think I'll go slip some rum into his coke to take the edge off all that efficiency.
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