Do I need therapy.

Trish asked, in the comments.

It's almost a trick question, like what color is an orange?

I'd say I need medicated, but I already am.

I'm knitting a sweater, on DEADLINE on size one and two needles (oh, and by the way? There's something wrong with it, but I can't figure out what - the math's wonky, like I missed an increase round, but I didn't, and I'm too drugged to figure it out), I've got some lace ON DEADLINE on 0000 needles that I haven't started yet, I'm watching a freaking flower die in Brooklyn by web cam, and I am a stay-at-home mother to an eleven-month-old whom I expect to come out with Newton's First Law, any day now. Or build a nuclear reactor. Or learn to speak Feline (did I mention she's making a noise that sounds like purring when she's happy? The baby, not the cat.)

Plus I'm so pissed at the world I'm amazed I'm not growing spikes out of my head.

There are ants in my office, I can't figure out why (okay, the open pack of Lemonheads drew them in, but I threw that away a week ago), and the ant traps seem to have made them WORSE.

And I missed Eureka last night, damn it all to hell.

Do I need therapy. Sheesh. Pass the chocolate.