Baby Oz is sleeping next to me all wrapped up like a burrito. The swing is on because he likes the noise. I'm all a-full. Of dread: I'm back to work tomorrow and trying, today, to see what kind of work-type hole I'm in. Which really sucks because, I JUST HAD A BABY. And yet, it seems, I should have been checking my email this whole time because I have approximately 5,000 emails from students and work people many of which are in red which means URGENT. Fuckers. I think I have 10 million pieces of papers to grade and I have to teach Walt Whitman and A Raisin in the Sun and I just can't. I can't I can't I can't. I hate them for not realizing that I can't possibly DO this. Also. I even had one student go to the dean about some field trip we're supposed to go on Thursday. FUCKERS FUCKERS FUCKERS. I'd tell you more about it but it's too boring for words and I can't even expend the necessary brain power to think about it for one more second.

I want to quit my job. Except then we have no money. But I really want to quit my job. I can't see how else to do my life.

We're just back from Florida--my brother Joe got married and the wedding was at my parent's house and it was hilarious (real live actual DOVES were released, my friends!).

Iems of note: My mother was strangely inappropriate at all times (as in: bossing the videographer in the middle of the ceremony, yelling a senseless joke to Oliver in the middle of the bride's father's toast to the happy couple, refusing to watch the newly married open their presents with all the other parents).

My father got sloshed and really funny. He presided over the drinks table at the end of the night when it was just me, Jeff, Dan, and Oliver and entertained us all by trying to act not drunk and then telling us stories about women (of which he knows nothing because he has been with my mother since he was 19 years old. I know more about women than he does. My wee brother Shawn knows more about women than he does. As the crazy catholics are fond of saying, Christ our lord knows more about the ladies than my dad.)

My crazy aunt shouted out NO! when asked if in the middle of the ceremony if we'd give the new couple our blessing and then giggled histerically and then took it back and said, all serious-like, "I will."

My creepy uncle may have gone home with the slutty caterer.

My baby brother Shawn may have hooked up with some red-headed chica but I really don't want to think about that any more. In the same vein: Oliver tried all night long to hook up with some other chica and I don't know and I don't want to know if he succeeded. Oliver has an one of those new-fangled "open" relationships. Ugh.

My alcoholic brother did not drink one damned drop of alcohol.

Ah, here's my baby. He's beginning to reawaken. I have to give him five hundred million hugs. Oh, how I wish this was all there was in the world.