Yesterday I screwed something up. That’s not the news worthy part of this story though.

After totally screwing up a sign I was putting together, I went into the bedroom where Jeff was watching football, to tell him. In case you haven’t figured it out yet, nothing really ever happens in my life until I tell Jeff. I know, it’s a really enduring quality I have. Just be thankful you’re not married to me and don’t have to sit through my stories of rearranging the living room. “Erika I can see you rearrange.” “Yeah, I know, but you don’t know how I got to this configuration.” He’s smart enough to just sit down and listen at this point and I’m usually smart enough to stop when his eyes have completely glazed over. Usually.

If you’re done thanking your maker, we can move on.

So I go into the bedroom to share my latest exploits and Jeff. is. asleep. Pillow over the head, mouth hanging open asleep. Jeff never sleeps. Let me make this clear: he worked 2 jobs (from 8 in the morning to 1 in the morning), and took a shift with the baby du jour for over 2 years. Jeff never sleeps. So obviously one of two things are occurring: Armageddon, or Jeff is sick. Either way it is not good, not good indeed.