Apparently, I haven't gotten any better at managing my time wisely, nor have I found a way to increase my energy to that of a toddler's. By the time he goes to bed, I have exactly enough energy to eat dinner, do the dishes, click a few buttons on the remote control and drag my sorry ass to bed. And it doesn't get any better in there; my dreams are weak interpretations of my slumber time environment or variations of the previous days events. For example, last night I dreamed about rich old ladies who lost their money at a grocery store (basically a re-do of the Law & Order: Criminal Intent episode I have watched on the DVR before bed), and about large, fluffy, black goats that had invaded our yard and wouldn't go away...all while Milhouse traipsed around the living room above my head, making infinitely more noise than a 12 pound cat out to be able to make.
I did, however, plant a ton of strawberries (literally. two thousand pounds of strawberry plants.) while Samson napped today, and yesterday I uploaded pictures of our recent comings and goings (like this one) and of the garden and its Springtime glory. So all is not completely lost.
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