Make that a stone's progress, lately. And not a rolling stone, either. My husband has sprained his ankle, so he hasn't been able to do as much housework or childcare. I have had to stay home extra, looking after the sonling so husband can keep his ankle elevated and iced. Not to mention, I've been up late every night cleaning, sweeping, and washing and drying the dishes--this in addition to my own usual share of the chores, which includes all the cooking and--at the son's own LOUD insistence--all of the nighttime and early morning childcare.

People, I am dead tired. My whole body hurts. I crave sleep like a man in the desert craves water, or like a writer craves original similes.

Tomorrow the babysitter comes. My husband will rest in the bedroom and maybe get a little writing done there, and I will go to the library and, let's be honest, most likely stare at my computer in the daze of utter exhaustion. This weekend I was supposed to wrap up the writing on my diss chapter for a while and send my pages to my advisors. Tomorrow I was supposed to get started on the first of two conference papers. Goddess alone knows what I might actually manage to accomplish tomorrow.

For now, I need to gulp down some tea, wake up, and finish getting dinner ready. My husband is watching the little one, and he can only do that for so long. Gotta go. No more time to rest.