Twenty-three, twenty-two, twenty-one

As we are nearing the end of our first school year, I am beginning to drag like a wind up toy on its last leg. Any chance to slow down even further is welcome. I have started to drink Earl Grey (with milk!) - whenever offered.

By the time everyone at home is up in the morning, I usually regret I made it out of bed in the first place. Approaching school, my feet become laden like in a time warp and after drop off, I linger to an extend that seems suspicious to even the chattiest of parents dotting the parking lot.

I will talk about anything - and at length - just to avoid having to trott back up the hill to my mountains of laundry, patches of weeds, and oceans of to-do lists. Sometimes I wonder whether I am lacking some life-enabling gene that makes tedious routines feel like comfort food.

But, hey, this is June and the countdown is running!