Part of it -- a large part of it, actually, I think -- is that the steroids I'm given with my infusion keep me up well well well past my bedtime, my mind and body buzzing like I drank a quadruple venti mocha with dinner (the only time of the week I have any energy). I got four hours of sleep Monday night, which is not nearly enough. Then I spend the rest of the week trying to play catch up, and I am too old for this shit.
Did I mention our house is under construction? We're turning our one-car garage into a mother-in-law suite and building ourselves a two-car garage. Well, the construction guys are building it, and it's coming along at a pretty decent pace, from what I can tell. This week they're working on framing the roof.
Quinn loves it when the cement mixer or diggers show up on our front lawn, but after four weeks of activity the novelty of the construction itself has worn off.
He'd rather watch Rescue Bots (which he calls "Rethcue Botsth to the Rethcue") on his iPad. Because I'm gunning for parent-of-the-year-award (they still give those out, right?) we spent all day Tuesday on the couch watching tv. I couldn't do it again yesterday, not with the incessant ham-ham-hammering going on above our heads, in my head.
Thank you, Shannon. Next time I won't forget the wine.