I was congratulating myself on a productive evening. Josh left to go see Wilco as soon as dinner was over. I loaded the dishwasher, put the leftovers in the fridge, read stories, supervised baths and put two "not tired" kids to bed. Then I sorted through old toys and puzzles, posted "free" and "for sale" notices, wrapped gifts for two out of three weekend birthday parties and straightened the living room rug. I addressed holiday cards for the overly ambitious folks who had already sent us theirs and put away the laundry.
Then I cut myself a wedge of brie, poured a glass of wine and grabbed the TVand Roku remotes. Of course, because I'm me, my glass of vino hadn't been set down for more than 30 seconds before I knocked it off its perch and into the wall, shattering it and splashing aromatic red liquid and tiny shards all over the wall, cabinet and floor.