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First meltdown of the Christmas season. Not too bad. Still not great.

The challenge is to get the living room put back together by tomorrow night for the grandparents to come over.

There's a secret room in the artery attic. Fun! ...but not to insulate.

I rearranged the office so the boys could both sleep there. Because I had to. It wasn't my job.

Work went better today than it had in a while; throws pink beret in the air; freeze-frame; like Mary Tyler Moore.

Writing assignments:

    - write S back about the textbooks and Venmo her
    - write M back (again) and Venmo her
    - write a treatment for a saucy play based on sitcoms and burlesque
    - write a treatment for a saucy play based on a holiday sleepover. With spies.

Crying and sledding. Cold comfort. Hot chocolate. Feeling barely there. So exhausted. Stop pawing me.

I can't...get it together. Or curate myself enough to have a Christmas present for L's best friend. Even though I have time to! On paper, I do.

How...? From whence, motivation?

Happy Christmas Eve Eve. In the morning everything will be frozen solid. Then we thaw things out and the whole concern is deluged with drippings (Russell, 1947)