But at least the morning started well-ish.
Son#3 and I bonded in the living room, bathed in morning sun creeping through the curtains.
Played footsie for a bit.
In a little while, I'm driving to the next village to see my friend Karen, who is 37 weeks pregnant with Number 3.
The Demons of Destruction will come home for lunch.
I want to call my dad, who feels like everything is a bit hopeless and blegh.
And it's fine to feel like that, too.
First of all, coffee.
Breakfast.
Kissing Son#3
Looking at my uber-dirty house and not planning to do a damn thing about it.
Life is short, after all.
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