The chaos of being a father, husband, and brother is starting to turn itself into normalcy. I don't find myself bitter that I haven't had the appropriate amount of breaks or time for myself to do stuff like blog and journal. Instead, it's been an issue of simply plugging away at the things that need to be done. Cleaning. Eating. Bathing the kid. Filling the gas tank. The mundane stuff needs to be getting done, and I have the capacity to do it. I know I do. I had one hellish week last month where I did it all by myself, and I did it. It went just fine. So what is there to complain about? Everyone's as supportive as possible. The show on krbd continues to be successful, even if "Hurricane Irene" from Craig called about 30 times last night to tell me all about her experiences at the Hill Bar. But Malcolm is happy. Lyss is managing. Bart is staying busy. Life isn't really that bad. Work has kept me going at least 40 hours a week, and that's never bad for the pocketbook. If only I could shake this illness, then i'd be square. The illness is for chumps. The headcold is all but gone, but the cough makes my lungs burn until just before the next, brutal round of hacking. Mucinex, tussen, all of these are barely making the symptoms tolerable. I'll get through though. I'm a Schleicher. That's what we do.C
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