Can't find a good picture. Have one to scan in but haven't the energy to lift a finger.
God, I haven't been this tired since a long time. I'm so tired I just want to cry from tiredness. Everything feels so awful. Don't. think. about. anything.
To bed last night at 12.30 after making some (gratifyingly successful) strawberry cupcakes and all the rest. Soon to be featured on piosacake.
As soon as I got to bed the baby woke up and slept fitfully but basically didn't settle. Husband came in at 3.20 - baby still unsettled. Alarm clock went at 4.30 am (even when I'm going to the airport for a nice holiday, I still wake to the alarm at 4.30 am wishing I was able to just go back to sleep) so I could get up to be at the Wesley car boot for 5.40. 5.40 A.M.
And then because it was pissing rain and windy there weren't many people there - we could have fucking sauntered in at 10. AAAGH!
Still, did ok in the end, but got very wet in the interim.
A vent soon to come about the miserable mingey stinginess of the common punter at bootsales and their refusal to recognise the value of anything, because it's at a bootsale. Feh.
I've never been in Wesley before, but I went to East Glendalough, Wicklow's first Protestant Secondary school - strong similarities. More to come about my ostracisation from the human race.
And finally, a post is in the offing about the Rise and Rise of the Daddy Blogger.
Hopefully tomorrow. The husband was exhausted after a gig on Thursday in his old place of work, Baker's Corner, went very well, home at half one, after working from 9-9. Then last night, after working to 7, a gig in town, in the new Purty Kitchen, where Bad Bobs used to be in Temple Bar. Very successful, lots of new people. Then up early with the cranky baby, til I came home at 2.30. He went to bed from 3.30, ostensible for an hour. We were meant to be going to a friend's party but while he slept, I made dinner, cleaned up in the kitchen, fed the baby, woke the daughter from her nap and fed her, starting pumping milk (for the nervous grandmother to come put the baby to bed so we could go out early) while contemplating hoovering the kitchen, thought about crap relationship in a presumably pre-menstrual way (if maggot is correct, he appears to be checking dates for some reason). Realised that all this was too much and I wouldn't have a good night if I went out, I'd just sleep in a corner. Tried to suggest the same to the husband, and that he'd be good for nothing tomorrow but he ignored the suggestion and went out.
So now it's a grown up, child free hot bath for me, once my daughter falls asleep, and bed, so I can get up with the kids tomorrow while he has a hungover lie in.
I think I'll check my lotto now. If you never hear from me again it'll be because I won the 8 million and will be living in a tree top mansion with monkey butlers to write millionaire blog posts for me under assumed names.