Leta is reading a book in her room after school. Side note: on a recent trip to the library she checked out six books and read all of them within two days. Yes, I'm bragging. Wanna arm wrestle? You'll probably beat me, but that doesn't matter. Because my kid is still a better reader than you.

Suddenly she hears whistling outside her door, so she jumps off of her bed and pokes her head into the hallway. No one is there so she returns to her book. Had this been me, I would have taken my book into the hallway, found the whistling culprit (Tyrant, he who whistles as much as he breathes, he who whistles off key, he who whistles random, senseless notes that resemble no song ever written because he knows it'll get into your brain and nibble on critical synapses), and smacked him in the head. And it wouldn't have been illegal because no judge on earth is going to side with a whistler.

Leta hasn't lived enough life to consider violence as an option, although one day we will have that discussion: 1) attack if you feel like your life is in danger, 2) attack if you feel like someone else's life is in danger, and finally 3) attack anyone blowing air through their lips.

She again hears whistling in the hallway, so she gets up to inspect. She sees no one and returns to her book. This scenario repeats itself six or seven times. You've got to admire that kind of patience. I mean, that's six or seven times too many. I'm as liberal as you can get when it comes to gun rights, but if someone is going to menace my child with whistling I don't see anything wrong with owning a machete.

Oh my god, people are going to take me seriously, aren't they? You guys, I would never harm a whistler. I might hire someone to, but I'd totally cover my tracks, okay?

Finally, after an eighth encounter with this indiscriminate whistling, Leta ventures out into the hallway to figure out what's going on. This is what Tyrant has been waiting for all along, and he abruptly jumps out from behind a wall and roars. You know what? Roar all you want, dude. Meow. Bray. Imitate a hyena. Burp the alphabet. BECAUSE THEN YOUR MOUTH CANNOT BE USED FOR WHISTLING.

Leta doesn't flinch. In fact, she just stands there blinking her eyes.

"Did I scare you?" Tyrant asks, confused. I mean, she is my daughter. And all he has to do is imagine the word SPIDER while standing next to me and I will scream while seeking shelter underneath the couch.

"No," she answers. "But you did ANNOY me."

Don't worry. I high-fived her on behalf of all of us.

Today is the third day in a row where I feel like I am swallowing razors, but Dr. Google assures me that this isn't strep throat. I assessed all my symptoms, and what I'm experiencing is most likely just some virus and I'm not about to pay $90 to have my doctor tell me to get some rest as if that is even possible when my three-year-old is taking Cheerios out of her bowl and sticking them in her ears.

I was like, Marlo. MARLO. Please stop doing that. I haven't slept in three days because the pain of swallowing knocks me wide awake, and oh? You're not going to stop? Okay then. Fine. I'll just put you on the floor and point the dogs toward the treats on your head and now you're screaming. I totally didn't see that coming.

Is that cruel? Yeah? Because you know cave people used wolves for discipline all the time, and our species isn't extinct!

Meanwhile Leta was sitting at the table eating her breakfast and shaking her head. "At what point will she understand how awful it is to be sick?" she said. "Like, can't she see the bags under your eyes?"

How thoughtful is my eight-year-old?

……

This virus distracted me from a post I wanted to write about my friend Anna Beth who is holding design camps around the country over the next few months. She recently held her first in New Orleans with much success (you can read about it here). You might remember her as the woman I hired to help me design my living room and guest room. Which reminds me, I never really posted still photos of that room:

She, much like Cami, inspires me to take chances when it comes to the look of everything in my life, not just interior design (her portfolio is full of eye candy). Her camps cover things like the basic principles of design, wall coverings, lighting, decorating on a budget, styling, and pulling it all together. I myself will be attending one of these camps once I figure out my insane travel schedule and remove the razors from my esophagus.

Her next camp will be held in Austin from June 30-July 1. As Anna Beth would say, if you're interested, DEWITT. I mean, even Martha Stewart gave a glowing testimonial: "She makes me want to put myself back in prison until I learn something useful."

I've got a sore throat with a fever and chills and an ache in my neck that stretches all the way to my lower back, so I'm lying here for a bit with the covers over my head listening to this track called "Myth" off of the new Beach House album called Bloom:

They are what is referred to as a "dream pop" duo from Baltimore, whatever that means. I've just got this song on repeat and it's helping my headache more than the ibuprofen is. I hope you enjoy it.