Tired. Tired tired tired.

But much less tired than I would be if we hadn't had those groceries delivered! I'm impressed; everything arrived on time and (except for one egg) intact. I am so happy that I didn't have to fight my way round the grocery store this dark cold evening; it felt so luxurious when I heard the knock at the door and realised that my groceries had arrived.

Before I abandon the computer to pour a post-dinner glass of wine for the adults in the house, the quote of the evening:

Me, as Sophie flops onto the sofa on top of me : Soph, scoot over. You're cramping my style.
Sophie : Mom, I don't think you really have a style.