Once back, we had the usual low-key afternoon and evening; I spent a lot of time in the chair watching a Clean House marathon (this may have been where the trouble started). When T. came in for the evening, we settled down to watch endless repeats of a Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star animation from the British Council which I suspect I've mentioned before. On the laptop, fortunately, so not everyone has to pay attention.
In fact, partway through the process, T. grabbed my hand, pulled me off the couch where he and the laptop were, pushed me further down the couch, shoved me back down, and then climbed back up with the laptop to watch the animation without me. I suspect he wanted to push the button himself, but it's possible he was just sick of me erratically singing along.
After a few minutes of resting (R. had A.), I figured, what the heck, there's laundry to fold. And then put away, and then more laundry. And then there were things to move out of drawers and into bins and into the basement and other things to move out of bins and into drawers and other things to move off a table and into a drawer -- you know, it's winter, so there's the seasonal clothing migration, complicated by the new-baby clothing shuffle that happens so often in the first year and then slows down dramatically.
We got to bed even earlier last night, which meant I had a little trouble falling asleep (there's a shocker) so I kept thinking about stuff I could do today like cooking and shopping and going for a walk and continuing the bin shuffle. Fortunately, I recognized this as mania and mostly kept a lid on it and stayed in bed and slept plenty. Because when I _did_ get up, I found myself in the kitchen.
And I have _no_ stamina right now (which is what the walks are supposed to help with, but I'm now almost too tired to go for one).