The Oreck Challenge

Life sucks, then it gets marginally better, then something happens and it sucks again. Maybe in a few weeks it'll get better. Maybe my intelligence and some semblance of normal emotional behavior will return when my milk comes in....

Then again, maybe the sky really is falling and there's a giant oreck out there to clean up the mess. Wouldn't that be nice? Just suck up all the little shards of abnormality in the world? Of course, the next logical question would be: would there be anything left after the clean-up, and who determines what qualifies as normal and abnormal? There's a question for the Hitchhiker's Guide. Where is that little don't panic book, anyway? I seem to have lost mine somewhere in the transom of chaos known as my life.

I miss intelligent conversation...I miss any conversation that doesn't center around pregnancy or kids. And I think I forgot what logic is, since it's an abstract and foreign concept to my kids...see how any topic can become a kidversation? I'm sure I could attempt a conversation with someone tomorrow about the mathematics of space or Imperialist Russia or the Ming Dynasty and it would somehow turn into a kidversation. Is a pregnant belly a billboard to the world that reads "I can only understand dialog about humans under the age of 18 and the bodily functions thereof"? I miss my brain. I wonder if I could solve a crossword anymore? I don't even know where my crossword books are - but I can pinpoint no less than 5 books on pregnancy, childbirth, breastfeeding, or children at this exact moment. Where is the law that says reproduction and intelligence are mutually exclusive? And who wrote it? Can I lodge a complaint? Oh wait, nevermind, I'd have to read the forms and everybody knows pregnant women can't read.

To borrow a sentiment from a young, intelligent, childless friend:

barf.