Last night we watched the last few episodes of Desperate Housewives, season two. Some of us were bound and gagged in order to fully "enjoy" the evening. I realize the show is not so great but I had gotten so far into it that I was unwilling to let go. Sean has better taste than I do (as he always says is evidenced by our choice in mates), so I had to force him to "have a nice evening" at gunpoint. Well, if I'd had a gun I would have done so.
Anyway, Bree committed herself to the local psycho ward for a "rest." I think I need a "rest" too. I was just writing to a friend that post-baby PMS (or "psm" as my addled brain transcribed it) is a force to be reckoned with. I used to have a few days of hunger, and perhaps a slight depression in mood. These days I feel like I should be locked up for two weeks out of every month. The good news is that Sean has developed elephantine skin which cannot be pierced by any but the most high-caliber rifles, and Maple's ultra-sensitive hearing is much dulled.
We're going for a walk now because we really, really, REALLY NEED SOME FRESH AIR.
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