Older Boy is working quietly; Younger Boy is working sporadically, taking many breaks to interrupt me in my office and Husband in his office-cum-bedroom.

There’s a bird outside my window chirping. Thought it was charming for the first 12 or 15 chirps. Now want to kill it. CHIRP CHIRP CHIRP. The insistence, the sheer repetitiveness of it, feels like a deliberate mockery of our current human condition of trappedness. (Is trappedness a word? Do I care? I do not.) I am aware that this observation may reveal some small paranoid tendencies rising to the fore.

Only *small* tendencies, though. Nothing big, like a belief that I am a major historical figure, or God. I do not believe I am Napolean (yet), nor do I believe I am Jesus. This is Holy Week; bad week to believe one is Jesus. Note to self: maybe encourage my Napoleanic tendencies just to be on the safe side, in case I am seized by full-blown delusions of grandeur.

Second note to self: maybe warn Husband of possible impending delusions of grandeur so he can prepare to cater to my every whim.