Mostly Sound Mind

It’s 9/11, and where did I find myself this morning? On top of Mr. Shaky (insert funny sex joke here), my least favorite rickety ladder in the world, trying to bludgeon the smoke detector in my bedroom with a pair of kitchen tongs. An hour before my appointment with the young easily intimidated lawyer to sign my will.

I guess you do get smarter with age, because I wisely gave up swinging at the 5-am-beeping-alarm and climbed down off the radically tilting ladder, called up Tata, and went and borrowed her much more stable aluminum (or ‘aluminium’ if you’re Loud) ladder. Stupid vaulted ceilings. Stupid Mr. Shaky. I NEED TO GET RID OF IT. Before it sneaks into the house in the middle of the night and falls over on me.

The legal appointment went well, although thank god young Heyward (his real name, seriously) wasn’t in the room when I started reviewing the documents, because I tittered when I saw myself described as the ‘testatrix’. So awesome. The Testatrix. It’s like the perfect mix of dirty words and actions. Yes, I am a 14-year old boy and an idiot. I definitely need to get a fireproof safe that I can instantly lose the combination to.

I ended up taking Jilly to the doctor’s yesterday, despite the fact I could have written down word for word everything he said in advance of the visit. Yes, I’m doing everything I can. No, she’s quite obviously not wasting away from malnutrition and lack of love. Yes, she is the cutest baby in the whole wide world.

The gloomy weather continues, which is not very conducive to staying awake at my desk. I am spending my days propped up by a tonic of Red Bull, Pepsi, and Sweet Tea (no, not mixed together, that’s just gross). The Bean did a little better in her crib last night but is still totally pissed off at being ejected from the nice cozy bassinette. I got to see real tears last night, which ripped a little hole in my grotesquely sappy new-mother heart. It’s apparently much, much easier when it’s not your kid, who knew?