It is now 12:23 – a.m. that is, and exactly 24 minutes ago I clicked “send” in the digital dropbox for my American Lit paper about a narrative written by a silly idealist named J. Hector St. John De Crevecoeur. I wrote his name at least 25 times throughout the paper, and had to look it up all 25 of them. I rocked the casbah on this one though, all hopped up on wine and stress. I analyzed his idea of community in a letter he wrote posing as an American farmer who came here from England freed from the iron fist of tyranny and religious dictate, to lovingly lay eyes upon the sweet land of liberty. (Holy shit, I just cranked out some serious alliteration! And to think I learned what that word meant just 4 weeks ago). Anyway, its a nice little letter persuading others to get on board the gravy train, except he went and gave himself away with that ridiculous name. Nobody with a swashbuckling name like Creve-blah blah blah ever ranked among the unfortunates. But I did swell with pride as he described America as being “united by the silken bands of mild government” leaving all “free to receive ample rewards for their labors.” I don’t know about anyone else, but damn, I’m pooped and the only fruits of my labor I have seen today were two glasses of cheap wine and my little loves all asleep like angels after an evening of boycotting dinner, beating the crap out of each other then eventually collaborating on a lively game of run-around-on-leashes-and-yell-as-loud-as-you-can. They love that game, they tend to play it at some point every day, sensing the time is ripe when I begin showing the first signs of fatigue. All in all, it’s been a good day. Adam’s over the flu, I got my paper in under the gun (Aimee-style), my hubby still has a job and last but not least, tomorrow (today) is Friday! What more could a girl ask for?