Surprisingly, or not, I am having mucho trouble waking in the am to walk Senor Mort to the bus stop. Also not sure why I'm breaking out my seven years of high school Spanish. Luckily for you all, that about covers all the words that I retained. I can only imagine that as it becomes darker and cooler outside I'm going to sleep later and later...But by then, he should have the hang of it, right?

I had to pull over to the side of the road yesterday because there was a yellow jacket in my car. Under my water bottle. I kept trying to crush it with a piece of wood that I found but it refused to be smooshed. Then I found a heavy rock and the sucker grabbed a hold of it so that it could flatten its poisonous grossy body against the rock's surface and escape death. But that is okay because I chucked the rock as far as I could, rolled up my windows (well, I didn't roll them per se. Do cars even come with that option anymore?), closed up the sunroof and was on my way. I almost had to pull over again because I started retching and shaking at the thought of the yellow jacket in my car. And I kept imagining I could hear a buzzing or something brushing against my foot. Ick.

Hey, so I managed to score a trial editing gig for a publishing company. If I do well, I will have some decent steady work between the magazine and the books, and still be able to be volunteer and bus stop and soccer and lunch time mommy. I need to work because I would go out of my head just hanging out waiting for Mort to return each day. Can you imagine? It seems lovely in theory, but horrid in reality. I mean, there's definitely lots of stuff to accomplish around the house, but I certainly don't want to be the one to do them.

I am two cups of coffee and one cup of iced tea in and still I cannot fully open my eyes. I feel like it's a weeble day.