I've been rattling around like a fly in a jar for the last week. The kids are out of school, which is a Yay! and Aw Man! proposition, we had a holiday weekend to contend with and I've been flat-out manic. For no good reason, I'd like to add.

Three-day weekends, for those who are disorganized, mean that the following Tuesday is like Monday on steroids. It's NOT GOOD. I still am not sure what day it is, but I do know that the kids are all sleeping in and it is a very quiet 7 am around here.

That is in contrast to last night at 3 am when I wandered to the bathroom, yanked down my pajama bottoms and sat down with my naked butt on the closed toilet lid. This is likely the only time in the history of all time that the toilet lid has ever been voluntarily closed.

Cold plastic on my bare lady bits was rather bracing at 3 am, and I let out a big "whooo!" and left back to my feet. There I was, off-balance, with my pants around my ankles. I toddled forward with shackled legs, knocked over the hamper and managed to get the lid of the toilet open. Backing myself towards the bowl, I rammed my hip into the edge of the counter and hollered about that. Then I peed for 700 minutes.

And then, pants restored, if not my dignity, I returned to bed.