Let's play guess what time I woke-up last night (this morning?) I will give you a hint: I watched back-to-back episodes of Roseanne. That is a darn good show. Do I hear 3 am? Cause if I do, we have a winner! 

Why does my internal clock feel that 3 am is an appropriate time to spring to life?

My garden is overrun and causing me great anxiety. My indoor seedlings are becoming leggy and nervous, looking to spread out. I have found not 1, not 2, not 3, but 5 holes chewed through the fence by my friendly neighborhood rabbits. And one tunnel dug beneath it. And I can't get out there to work because it will not stop raining.

Abrupt subject change.

I have a friend, Riley, who could truly teach Martha Stewart a thing or two. The woman is a full-time stay-at-home mom, who works outside the home in the evening and on weekends. She runs her household by herself for the most part as her husband travels nonstop for work. She is like a mythical figure blessed by the Greek gods. Her home is always always always immaculate. Eat off the floor immaculate. Her flower beds are always lush and overflowing with nary a weed. Her child just turned four and is already able to write. She does elaborate crafts. She changes the decor of her home for every holiday. And I'm not talking she strings up some lights. She creates her own garland with handmade snowflakes and hearts for Valentine's Day. And even though she just spent 5 hours in the emergency room with her wee one, who will be completely dependant on my friend for the next month or so, I just received a thank-you note for a birthday party that very recently took place. Handmade. Two paragraphs written in regards to the gifts we brought. With a picture. Seriously, Riley should run for State Senate. Or Ruler of the Free World. That woman can get some shit done.