I had no idea today was the Super Bowl. Much less who is in it, when it’s on, what commercials I need to be excited to see.

But then again I’m kind of over organized sports and brain hemorrhages.

And being in touch, in general. 

Both kids were with me most of the day as Chelsea took care of some business. How do people who have more than two kids do it? How do other people who have two kids do it? I came from a family of four children and I don’t know how my parents did it.

I swear our house is scored by the same person who did the Dark Knight. A high pitch hums on the days we’re in the house. And these clowns of chaos–the kids–just want to watch the world burn.

 Before I came downstairs to write, I picked up something off the bathroom floor, touching the bottom of the garbage can as I did, and some goop got on my hand. What the fuck is this goop? All the time I’m stepping on chunks of food and putting my finger in someone else’s goop. Right now I’m sitting on reconstituted, then re-dried residues of Wendell’s rawhide. June has vomited on me three times in the week; I have this cold because on Wednesday she sneezed directly into my face uncountable times.

When I felt the goop, I felt my blood pressure rise; a cap-stone to a high-stress low-pressure day.