Oh, Bartleby

Shh, don't tell anyone but it's 11 pm and I still haven't planned a Sunday School lesson for tomorrow. Will they fire me? Chastise me? I doubt it. There isn't exactly a waiting list for the job.

I believe we'll work on a family tree - the kind of vague, abstract family tree ("your family, or friends, or people from church, or your patron saint...or, you know, whatever you feel like drawing") which hopefully I have the butcher paper to create. If not, there's always a couple rousing renditions of Father Abraham to eat up the time.

I made the mistake of a Round Two sugar buzz after getting home - just when the milkshake & the scent of cherry almond body butter were wearing off, I dip into the Haagen Daz. A mistake, especially when you really should just be finishing off The Historian (am I the only one who suddenly became less interested when a certain significant character actually appeared in flesh & blood (and more blood)?) and getting in bed.

And why is it that whenever you decide, "okay, now I really have to pee and I'm going to get up off the couch now," someone else sneaks into the bathroom? Or when it's early in the morning and you're laying in bed thinking, "now I'll get up and take a shower," you hear the door creak closed and the shower start with someone else in it. Oh, the humanity.