It is possible that the afternoon tea ritual was started by a mother of a newborn. Phil would know for sure. I feel lately the way I imagine a bipolar experience would be like. Given a booster of caffeine, I move into a kind of mania and when it wears off . . . well, you know. Tonight after my late afternoon cup of tea I thought of about eight blog entries I've been meaning to write, then I thought after the girls were asleep I could write them all before I forgot again. But tonight is a good t.v. night (Heroes and Studio 60), so here I am, after the pumpkin coach has disappeared and returned to the patch.
What I would really like to write about is half-baked. I tried, then parked it in Drafts. It feels like failure, like a waste of precious time. Now it's time to feed my baby and call it a night. Maybe tomorrow I can sync up my caffeine time with my computer time. Apparently, it's my only hope for coherency.