I know I said I'd do a festive, snappy post yesterday on Christmas books but as it turned out yesterday I got out of bed to bathe one of our puke-sodden children, crawled down the stairs to throw another puke-doused comforter in the washer, then slept the rest of the day while our children somehow completely destroyed our house while sick. They're just gifted that way.
Today I had a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for lunch and considered it a triumph. I also did the dishes- twice- and am currently recovering from that latest bout of domesticity. I should be ready to do something else in about an hour, provided it's not as physically arduous as those dishes were.
Hopefully that Christmas book blog will just sort of, I don't know, write itself, and will also magically self-publish tomorrow, because this whole typing thing is exhausting, and is interrupting conversations between Adelaide and I about whether we feel a tighter mother-daughter bond after puking side by side.