What I've done so far today:

Got up at 6:45. Got Madalyn up and dressed for school and on the bus. Showered. Got JZ up. His diaper had leaked so I had to strip him and hose him down in the shower. Got his breakfast, managed to get myself dressed and hair fixed, got JZ dressed, took him to preschool. Went directly to the newspaper to place yard sale ad, then to the lab to have a blood draw, then Home Depot for more water and then on to Walmart to pick up some things. Came home, unloaded the car, put groceries away, and headed down to Madalyn's school to have lunch with her. Robert was here when I got home and we realized our only option was for me to drive him down to C****, where he was due to make P.A. announcements at the basketball tournament and then broadcast one of the games later tonight. Drove down with him (30 minutes) and back (30 minutes). Went straight to old house to let in housecleaner and pick up some boxes of things to price for the sale and then came home. Unloaded car, changed cats' water, cleaned up cat puke. Now I'm "resting," if one can call it that. I have been sitting down for approximately 5 minutes. In another ten minutes or so Madalyn's bus will arrive. I will have to fling her dance outfit on her, jump in the car, blaze down to the preschool to pick up Johnny, then drop Madalyn at dance and find something for myself and JZ to do for 45 minutes. I'll pick her up at 4 and we will come home, but, oh, it doesn't end there! Robert needs to be picked up, you see. So, at his suggestion, we are going to head down there about 6:30, have a bite to eat at the restaurant, and come see the boys' basketball game, after which we will all come home together, arriving probably close to 10 p.m. No rest for the wicked, I guess.

Anyone realize how much of this could've been avoided if we only had a second car? Oy.

I am so tired right now I probably could not even be classified as alive. We're talking Afternoon of the Living Dead, here. A mad scientist has reanimated my corpse and I'm staggering around the house with a glassy-eyed, vacant stare, drooling slightly and communicating via terrifying, hideous moans and wails.

So, you know, pretty much the usual.

With this tidbit of information it should make everyone in the immediate area thrilled to know I'm about to head out to the garage and attempt to operate a two-ton motor vehicle. I would love to abstain but I committed myself to helping at Wednesday night church through the end of October, so off we go.

Fortunately my zombie-like attributes do not extend as far as being compelled to consume the flesh of mortals, so that's good news for the rest of the church.

Grrrrrr.

*Yawn*

Yes, I know, I'm taking this night owl thing a bit too far. I can't help it, folks -- it's just one of those nights. Fellow insomniacs can identify with me, I'm sure. It's one of those nights where your body just isn't going to fall asleep even though it should, by rights, be exhausted. A night where things that normally wouldn't bother you are, instead, preventing you from falling asleep. Like the water I drank a little while before I went to bed. On a normal night I would fall asleep and wake up four or five hours later to say bye-bye to all of it at once. But, on a night like tonight, I lay there in bed, wide-eyed and staring at the ceiling, feeling every minute sensation that passed through my body -- and, therefore, ended up visiting the ladies' four times in thirty minutes. Fun stuff, that.

Also contributing to the situation is the fact that this is Robert's first night on his new c-pap machine (for sleep apnea). I am not entirely sure I will be able to get used to the noises this thing makes (the machine, not Robert. I've had 8 years to get used to him.) The noise ranges from a rather loud hiss, at the quietest, all the way up to hissing plus a high-pitched squeaking sound when the mask gets slightly displaced. Add to that the fact that he is still snoring (though much more quietly) and it adds up to quite the cacophony. I do hope it's helping, though. Especially since I fully expect him, after his first solid night's sleep since he was a kid, to bound energetically out of bed in the morning to deal with the children while I sleep in. Yeah, and the part about not dying suddenly from heart problems brought on by the apnea doesn't suck, either.

And now, good readers, I'm off: to sleep; perchance to dream. And perchance to not have to hit the loo for at least another five hours. I don't ask for much.