My husband calls me NEST-OR

As if cleaning every medicine cabinet in the house somehow qualifies one for a Japanese black and white monster movie title. That's right, kids, it's Nestor Versus Godzilla.

(If, by Godzilla, you mean "The entire 1,000 sq feet of the upstairs of my home + the entire 1,000 sq feet of the unfinished basement of my home + my entire catalog of poetry + that book I started to write but never finished + all of that baby stuff that probably should be done + a new Composition-themed blog to entertain my students and if, by Nestor, you mean yours-truly-minus-sleep).

Actually, on paper, it DOES look like Nestor Versus Godzilla: My spare list-making spiral notebook is taking on monster-sized lists (courtesy, of course, of the Sharpies and ONE entry happens to be "Drive to Office Depot. Buy $1 Silver Sharpie"). But that's on paper.

In truth, I came home from conquering my classes today to spend the rest of the day sitting in my rocking-chair-butt-groove wondering why in the world I signed up to teach three classes while I was engaged in the consuming task of making another person.

I mean yeah, she'll be a tiny person (better be a bit tinier than her older brother, that's for darned sure, because at 9lb 13oz, 14 3/4 head, and 21" long, he was like a three-month-old person the day he was born), but a person nonetheless. Making people is, apparently, exhausting work, especially while engaged in the task of chasing other people that you made while saying screaming things like "DO NOT STICK THE HOSE IN THE CHARCOAL BAG AND THEN STICK BOTH INTO THE WINDOW WELL AND THEN TURN THE HOSE ON" or "Please stop licking things in public".

But, but, where was I again? Oh, back to my point, or, I guess, what I thought might be my point - or what I wished was my point. THIS WEEK, this week will be different. This week Godzilla won't be writing the list, THIS WEEK, it'll be tackling the list!