Shhhh

I hate to say this aloud--or rather, type it for all the world to see--so let's all pretend it's being typed sotto voce, like a deep, dark secret: I think sleep is returning to normal.

The last couple of nights have been better, anyway. Good enough that I can get up a little while before Cubby does without feeling like a truck done runned me over. Which means I can make and drink coffee without the demands for a book or biscuit (who knew baking powder biscuits could be such a desired treat?) or a thousand other things showered upon me by my own small dictator first thing in the morning.

To say nothing of sitting in front of a little plastic potty at 6 a.m., watching and applauding what should be a private affair, before I'm even dressed and coherent.

That potty thing is getting better too, by the way, but I hate to push my luck by talking about it right now, so let's just leave it at that, shall we?