…and the rest is history

It’s like there’s some sort of cosmic balance in play here–first, I’ve been enduring the enormous pressure of have to actually wake up to an alarm clock other than my son and then, gasp, teach, of all things for, like OMG, five and a half hours a day while a piece of crap spends a half hour to come up with a minimally convincing story and website and almost gets away with making bucketfuls of money while preying on generous souls.

Now, I’m kicking back in J’s nursery all morning after having gotten out of bed at the late hour of 7 a.m. and am making plans to not only see a fireworks show tonight, but also a zoo trip with my sisters and their munchkins tomorrow.  On the other hand, the Help My Baby Live site seems to be down for the count–and when I last checked last night, Pay Pal still had the account frozen.

Oh, and not only did I finish another of my crappy chick lit books this morning, but I also have a box of cheap ones on their way to replace it from Barnes and Noble’s bargain rack.  There’s something about a ditzy, professionally repressed and love-starved heroine that just makes me feel better about my life.  I’m only a little ditzy, myself.  I’m totally in love with T, and I have to say that I think he probably feel the same about me.  As for professionally repressed, well, of course, but I’m a teacher–what teacher wouldn’t be?