Can someone explain to me the compulsion to back into parking places? Having a) been caught in traffic behind people attempting to back into parking places on multiple occasions, and b) been in a position to back livestock trailers up to chutes for unloading, I can say with certainty that it takes far more time and effort, and causes far more traffic backlog, to back INTO a narrow parking place than it does to back OUT into open space.
It’s a cranky kind of morning, if you can’t tell. Perhaps that’s a natural side effect of having, for a period of time, four people in my bed overnight. Even when two of them are miniatures, a queen sized bed does not hold four. And I pretty much can’t sleep if anyone is touching me. So I got some nice cuddles last night, but not a lot of rest.
It also didn’t help to come home from taking one child to school this morning to find the recycling bin had tipped over in the wind and strewn trash all over the street, the grass and the sidewalk, where it was all plastered to the concrete by a very, very cold rain. My hands are still not warm.
The kids were completely insane at Holy Thursday Mass last night. I told them they’re all taking naps today, because tonight we’re not just attending services, we’re leading music, so we need a little less, er, insanity.
An interesting article that was making the rounds this week: “Making Time For Kids: Study Says Quality Trumps Quality.”
And another interesting scientific study: “Endocrine-disrupting chemicals can adversely affect reproduction of future generations of fish.”
Or, as the Washington Post, put it, “Fish Don’t Want Birth Control, but Scientsis Say They Get It From Your Pill.”
What else do I have to say that is not cranky and most un-Good-Friday-bad-attitude-ish? Not much, I’m sorry to say.
Except that I have a matter on which I need to examine my conscience, and I decided to set aside the noon-to-three time today for that purpose. I am afraid it may be uncomfortable, so any spare prayers would be much appreciated.
I need to put up a graphic of a cute Easter egg or something tomorrow, so this bloggy-teeth-gnashing doesn’t hold the front page all through Easter morning.
What you need is someone to slip you a rufi every night at bedtime so you sleep. You make insomniacs look like rip van winkle.