Audit is over, sweet merciful heavens! I can actually sit at my desk and get work done. (Or blog. Whatever.)
My first-born turns twelve this week. And has a mustache. How did it come to this? I can still feel the phantom pangs of his foot wrapping itself around my left hipbone while in utero and now he's got pimples.
I've decided that this recent haircut was a tragic mistake. Too long to be short, too short to be long, and too many layers that frizz out into a crazed nimbus at the first sign of humidity and in complete defiance of hair products. The question is, can I grow out the layers by June? If not, drastic steps will be taken.