That would be the weather. Apparently we're on track to have this be the gloomiest month of June on record. I don't mind the constant cloud cover (which I actually like in the winter, when the sunlight is a slanting, squint-making mockery). It's this endless drizzle. Ultimatum to weather gods: stop constantly sprinkling on the toilet seat of my life! Wipe it up, zip and get the hell out of my stall! It's supposed to be summer, not Irish spring. Feh.
Weather: sucky (see above). Home life: chaotic, more so than usual. Welcome to Zoo Dubrawvsky, which opened on Sunday, packed with laughter and love, joy, tears and extra beer, starring the four of us plus Ben's nephew's family, who are staying with us for a week while the floors are refinished on their new house they bought on Monday two hours after selling their old one. It's actually lots of fun because the girls -- our two, plus their three-year old Maya and their 11-month-old, who mostly sits and stares and thinks, "This is not my beautiful house!" -- play together beautifully, except when one or more of them is having a meltdown, but that has occurred in a significant way only once so far, which of course would be bedtime last night, which ran from 8 p.m. to about 10:30 p.m. until the ever-fluid sleeping arrangements were settled as follows.
Plan A: Maya on Sarah's floor, Becky in her own bed... REJECTED! Grounds: unfair to Becky because Maya slept with Sarah LAST night. Plan B: All three kids in Sarah's room for complete fairness, and Becky's room to be used by one of Maya's parents... REJECTED! Grounds: Maya now realizes this is no longer a one-night novelty, misses her own room and toys, sobbingly begs to sleep with mama. Granted. Plan C: Becky now on Sarah's floor so Becky's room can be used by Maya's dad, who are is crammed into guest bed with wife and three-year-old... REJECTED! Becky generally inconsolable for reasons that are unclear; whimpers to sleep with me and Ben in our bed. Granted, with much sighing and rolling of eyes. Final result: Becky snuggling with yours truly while watching Red Sox slaughter the Washington Nationals and their highly inflammable bullpen, while Ben keeps an eye on the game and indulges his raging Ken-Ken addiction on his computer. The end.