I'm starting to think that insanely busy is normal for me. Did I mention I had a panic attack last week? I mistook my sudden inability to get enough air for asthma. Then I talked to my mother, and she suggested it was probably a panic attack because it sounded like one she had once.

The irony was that it happened AFTER all the crazy busy-ness, on the day I was driving back to work after having taken a day off to set my house in order. It was the first day I'd had to "breathe" in a while and most ironically, I couldn't.

But I'm all better now, having whacked most of the moles, except that the friggin' air conditioner still isn't getting the upstairs of our rental house under 80 degrees during the day -- and this is after I have spent $1200 to have it "fixed." In the immortal words of everybody, "F*** that."

Meanwhile, Camden's adorable. She has tolerated me feeding her a little rice cereal from a spoon, she slept 8 hours in a row last night, and we both heard her clearly say "golf" the other day during a conversation she was having with herself. So she's doing fine. If her parents can only get their lives together, we'll be one small happy family.