And Then Comes That Moment When The Six Weeks Catches Up and I Grow Dead in the Brain...Exhausted.

When I came home from the office and the twins weren't with me, this is the position that Glamis took immediately. Earlier yesterday morning when I got up, she was curled up with a pair of shoes Abu left by the door. She was licking them. She knew, and now she is depressed.

I, too, grew sad. Driving home without the singing, laughter, and jokes reminded me that I'd come home to a quiet home (Tunga was working) and that the television that has been screaming "USA" and "GOOOOAALLL" and "Look at that Scmuck" would await me with a black screen.

No massive dinner to prepare. No sorting clean-up. No planning what's coming next.

Just stillness.

I tried to grade, but my brain wouldn't cooperate. It simply wanted to stare off into space and to think about nothing but hitting the pillow. The last night, driving home from Massachusetts after midnight and staying up for dinner until 2:30 a.m. threw off my sleep and I barely kept my eyes closed for two minutes.

This man is pooped. The whirlwind of summer festivities and all the energy it takes to keep things floating suddenly disappeared and it feels like an anvil fell on my head.

Of course, Glamis eventually got out of her funk and pulled out every squeaky toy she could. The rest of the evening was the annoyance of those squeaks and her intentional throwing of the toys underneath couches and chairs where she couldn't get to them.

I gave in. I simply watched Big Brother and said, "It's okay if you go to bed early."

And so, today I hope to begin renewed and refreshed. The humidity and heat doesn't help with the desire to sleep the day away, but I need to refashion the pace and go forth with the next projects.

The poor Corn Hole boards and beanbags are in the shed wondering, "Where'd everyone go?"

It's fun having such company, you know?