In my perfect, fantasy world, I would right this minute be curled up on the couch, knitting close at hand, with a crime documentary on TV and an icy glass of Coke nearby. I'd be in sweats, and if I missed several minutes of a show due to nodding off a bit, it wouldn't matter because I have DVR. I'd even accept my current migraine into this fantasy world, because I would be able to close the drape and keep things quiet while I rode out the lightning storm inside my head.

Instead, I'm sitting in my husband's home office, watching my backyard flood dangerously close to the back door, listening to my school-was-canceled children run around like a pair of banshees after an espresso-pounding contest. Everything is bright and loud and a bit overwhelming. I can't watch crime shows because, while they are able to happily ignore the sounds emitted by their parents, my progeny tend to tune in and absorb every second of any viewer-discretion-is-advised show within miles.



But it's not all a wasted, miserable day. I am still in sweats and did an admirable job of holding down the couch in between nodding off this morning. My kids were well-behaved, albeit volume-enhanced, and Willem just fed them and herded them off for nap/quiet-time.

And I just bought 6-day Paris Passes for my mother, sisters, and myself, because we will be in Paris in THREE AND A HALF WEEKS.

So, discrepancies aside, I think I'll accept my real life over my fantasy one. At least for now.