A really solid writing day! The end of the book so close I can taste it. A self high-five for a bad-assitude at the close of a chapter. Yay!
As a bonus, baby falls asleep in car on the way home from parents', who have babysat and fed us so I could squeeze in another precious writing hour. I have it made, I think: sleeping baby at 7:30, without having to even try.
Baby wakes up and stays up. Resists all tricks and efforts and sleep-induction. Husband not home. Baby wide awake. Book not getting finished.
More coffee is consumed against the certainty of a post-midnight workday extension.
Baby still awake at 10 pm; husband still not home to take over. I decide I might as well put the dishes away while baby plays. Something catches my eye just as I'm sliding a bowl into a stack of heirloom Italian ceramics on a tiptoe shelf. I drop the stack, terrify the baby, and break almost every dish. (Mom, if you're reading this, breathe.)
Comfort scared baby, who decides it's high time to fall asleep. About five-minutes post-disaster. Of course. Husband returns home two minutes after that, finds the cataclysm, wonders what happened.