An exhausted, fish-lipped baby. She SHOULD be exhausted. She was a sack of volatile baby anger all day yesterday. I will say that I now have far more empathy for mothers with screaming babies in public places. Sometimes you just have to get errands done, baby's temperament be damned. Mmmmm, humble pie.
Mike worked a late shift last night and I just had to wake him up because there's a spider in the living room. And he didn't divorce me immediately after. He's such a good husband. (In my defense, I wouldn't wake him for just any spider, but this was a six-inch long nightmare sprinting across the wall. My coworker's husband works at a nuclear power plant, and if someone is running on the property their gun tower men shoot to kill. That's my policy for spiders. If you run, I shoot to kill. Or I send my husband to kill. Whatever.)
Gloria will be seven months old on Monday. What the hell, time?
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