bomb clock

I'd had a pretty good list of blog topics in my head. It was starting to rival the list of blog topics I had in my head pre-Bean's arrival, and that's saying something. (I used to compose these little in-head blog entries on the bus - sure, it looked like I was daydreaming but see I was composing which is so much better...)

Somehow there was a cosmic connection between our hard drive and my blog brain because they've sort of vanished from my head. Pfft - gone.

I absolutely hate reading blog entries where the blogger is all I have nothing to say! Read about how I have nothing to say!

And yet here I am. Doing just that.

I'll tell you this: the hard drive situation is beyond horrid. I HATE not having a computer except for the few minutes when I can hijack Chip's laptop. Actually, the feeling I have about the laptop is very similar to how I feel about doing so many things these days: like I'm on borrowed time. You know those count-down clocks they have on bombs in the movies? The clock is counting down 30-29-28-27 meanwhile our hero is sweating profusely, trying to evacuate the building and it's super super SUPER tense. I feel like that from the minute Chip gets home from work. I hand off the baby and then race around the house, trying to update the blog, write in Bean's journal, check email, do some dishes, do some laundry, pump. All the while I'm looking in on Chip with Bean, telling Chip that I'm almost done - I'll be right there - just one more minute.

What's stupid about this is that he has never given me reason to think that he's watching the clock in any way. He's happy to take her, happy to spend time with her, happy to change diapers. I have wondered lately if this rushrushrush feeling is part of the New Normal.

Speaking of count downs... I hear a baby that needs me.