What day is it, anyway?

Monday holidays always make for a strange week in the newsroom.

You start off with no one having to be at the office on Sunday afternoon or evening.

Hooray! Something resembling a real weekend!

Then you follow it up with a Monday night deadline that isn't usually there.

Boo! No trivia at B-Dubs. No Monday Night Football.

After that it gets even weirder. There's a certain rhythm to our week that we get used to, except on those six Mondays a year when mail is not delivered.

As I sit here writing, it's Tuesday (I think.), but it kind of feels like Monday. It also kind of feels like Wednesday.

When you add a bit of sleep deprivation to this weird distortion of my personal space-time continuum, things really get surreal.

I went to bed at around 11:30 p.m. on Monday, only to wake up at around 3:45 a.m. Tuesday. (I think.)

Our three-year-old had crawled into bed. It was time to pee, then shine and hem and haw a little bit, then -- we hope -- go back to bed.

But there was another disturbance in the force this fine morning. My wife, suffering from an outbreak of poison ivy, was now also awake, itching like crazy.

So the little man and I visited the restroom and then retired to the living room couch to attempt to return to sleep. Mommy, meanwhile, stayed in the bedroom doing whatever she could to fight off the skin irritation.

In the end, she never got back to sleep, while I slept minimally, what with a 30-something pound child crawling all over my head for the remainder of the morning.

So, as I say, it's a weird Tuesday morning (I think.) here at the BG assistant editor's desk.

But who am I to complain? The solution, as always, is get to work and try to beat deadline.