I bet you expected a picture of me in bed, or in the bath, but you'll have to do with some floppy tulips illustrating the mellowness of my evening.
The bedtime refers to Little Brother. I think I'm on the way to getting him to bed properly, not just drugged and asleep from boob juice. And that at the good time of eight thirty pm. Yesterday it was at nine thirty (and I'm aiming for six thirty to seven-ish).
Anyone who has had kids can relate. I finally have a little evening to myself.
And what did I do with my newly found freedon. A bath. In out new bathtub. Bliss. Bliss. Bliss. But the restlessness caught up with me there too. I think I have to stare at these tulips some more.