WHY DO I DO IT?

Why do I do it, when it keeps me awake till two? Why do I do it, when staying awake till two means I'll be ragged and humorless tomorrow, unable to complete the medicine cabinet overhaul I imposed on myself today, the packing-of-winter-clothes extravaganza I started a month ago? If I can't put away the bottles of medicine, hair bands, swim diapers, and toothbrushes blanketing the bathroom and the weird piles of clothes scattered here and there--on the chair in the living room, in the stairs, in a plastic bag beside the washing machine--how am I ever going to work on the children's books, the mobiles, and the jewelry? How am I going to get anywhere with the creative projects if I can't pick up after myself, let alone two little kids?

Why do I do it? If I hadn't done it, I'd be asleep now, comfortably snuggled in the eggplant-colored sheets. I'd wake up fresh and focused, and after making Lula banana pancakes and taking her to school (explaining evolution on the way) I'd clean and organize the house and then I'd sit down to work on the "other stuff."

But now I won't, because I did it. Why? Why do I do it?

Why do I drink hot chocolate late at night?