3 days and 2 nights

On Thursday morning about 6:30 am Gioconda and the boys left for Berkeley, leaving me behind with the two girls. Fortunately, my mom came to help, and I will admit had she not helped it would have been very- very (very,very) difficult.

The girls are doing this thing tag team now where one is always awake.

With the help of someone who will remain nameless (Pinnter), they have worked out a schedule. I found it in their cribs taped to the wall. It has one baby up at every two hour intervals. Although they have done relatively well at maintaining the schedule, there are times when one or the other will fall off.

I know it's all part of a master plan to make us vulnerable to a hostile take over. That's the part of it I find upsetting, the maliciousness, yet babies tend to be undependable so the plot may ultimately be thwarted.

In spite of this attempt to keep me off balance, it is Sunday, Gioconda is back, and everyone is still alive.

Personally, I find working in the home much easier than working outside the home.

Its the little things about work I hate, like finding a place to park and then paying $45.00 every ten minutes (or fraction there of) for the pleasure of stacking my car up with 50 others in a dingy lot and then giving my keys to a guy name Jose with a lazy eye.

I hate the 10 freeway in both directions.

On my best days, I'm ambivalent about my work, as I find it both uninteresting and utterly insignificant.

I grew up thinking women who didn't work outside the home had no sense of identity, but what I have come to know is that is all backwards. There is nothing that strips away more at the fiber of my being than listening to a work comp judge tell me there are no "special appearances" in work comp, and although no one in the room said the words "special appearance" , go on for the next ten minutes talking about the case in which it became an issue. Really? Who gives a fuck?

All I can think is- what am I doing here?

I spent tons of time and money to become an attorney and every once in a while I'll think I just need to find another area- but what I have come to accept is I just don't enjoy work- any type of work. If I have to get in my car to go do it, I don't want to.

I'll take doing loads of laundry any day over ...well pretty much anything I do in my vocation...

In the end its all a trade off, a lecture by an angry white guy about something only he cares about, or an attempt to control my mind by a couple of 5 month babies and a sinister pet.