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.
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