my brain hates me

This is the kind of crap my brain likes to pull at 2 am: I wake suddenly, I feel like I'd heard a thud from upstairs.  Kid falling out of bed?  Pause, listen for crying.  No crying.  Cool.

Brain: Unless there's no crying because the child has fallen in such a way as to be unconscious or worse.

Me: Shut up.  It was nothing.  I'm going back to sleep.

Brain:  Of course, now that I've warned you, if you go upstairs tomorrow to find your child's twisted body, you'll feel even MORE terrible, won't you?

Me: Stop it!  You know it's nothing, now let me sleep!

Brain: Yep, you're making it worse and worse for yourself.  Is your sleep more important than your children's lives?  If you go now, there's still time to call 911!

Me:  I hate you.

So tonight, I'll drink some wine while I watch the finale of Top Model (I'm voting Anyone But Melrose).   Maybe THAT will silence the voices.

Today: Plow and Hearth, Athleta (oh, poor catalog, how have you come to me, of all people?), and Mindware.