So now it’s later.

Tiring day, and it’s not over yet. A bit earlier—say three hours ago—I had an intense need to write something about today, but with the kids asleep and the house in darkness and a quiet stream of air being driven past me by the fan, I’m not so full of need any longer.

— § —

It’s not exactly that it’s been one of those days on which “everything goes wrong.”

Nothing did, in fact, go terribly wrong. Lots of little annoyances here and there. They add up, I suppose.

More that it’s a day on which I was irreperably and unavoidably a step or two slow. Constant racing, constant putting-out-of-fires, everything done or every arrival managed “just in the nick of time.” Hanging on by the skin of my teeth stuff.

I’m not one to feel overwhelmed. I’m used to heavy multitasking and living the working and logstics parts of my life with a pretty high degree of intensity, as a trade-off for also having a certain number of peaceful moments in my life.

But there are days like today when there is no trade-off; there are no peaceful moments. Every last moment is used, every last bit of adrenaline is currency, nothing is savored, there are no breaks, and even then, I’m one slip or crisis away from blowing, underdelivering, or being just plain tardy for everything in the day to come afterward.

I don’t like that feeling of not being master of the day, not quite being on top of things or in control of the situation. Normally I feel like a time and labor management wizard. On days like today, I feel like the average frazzled, overworked parent constantly in danger of dropping something.

Do not like.

And it is tiring to live that way. No wonder so many people complain.

I am hoping that with so many little random annoyances and delays (starting with a peed bed at three o’clock in the morning) having arrived on a single day, I’m free and clear for the rest of the week and can catch up. We’ll see.

— § —

This weekend:

• Get that damned IBR recertification finally filed
• Mow lawns, front and back
• Get things together and in place so that we can begin painting some walls next week
• Sit down and write something by hand in the notebooks
• Try to figure out where I stashed my e-dairy (non-public portion) from 1996–2001 or so
• Finally actually sit down and work on a book proposal again
• Follow up on the growing pile of personal life communication and follow-up that I need to do

We’ll see. I have no doubt that not all of that will happen. But some of it will, and that’s not nothing.

More later.

Kid wakes up in middle of night, doesn’t tell anyone, and drinks two juice boxes. Then, kid comes to lay next to parent in middle of night. For some reason, grabs iPad from table. For some further reason, falls back asleep face down on top of it, with iPad centered directly beneath him.

Kid pees bed. Or more accurately, kid pees iPad. Generously. Everyone soon awake at 3:00 am. Mess cleaned up. In half-asleep peeland, parent misses very important point that iPad was also the parent alarm, and that the parent is in turn the kid alarm.

Everyone thus wakes up in the morning at 8:05, just a few minutes before school is to begin. Everyone races to get to school on time for sibling—just barely.

Kid and parent come breathlessly back home after dropping sibling off. Kid asks to watch a movie on parent’s iPad. Parent explains that this is not possible because kid has peed iPad, and iPad is thus not disposed to show him a movie.

Being tired for having waken up drenched in pee in the middle of the night, kid is similarly not disposed to hear excuses and explanations. Kid throws big tantrum.

Parent sits down and has tea to the soundtrack of fatigued morning tantrum, instead of to music from iPad.