Snapshot of my living room on a hot day

Allow me to be original and begin my post with a complaint about the ungodly heat. Yes, I'm aware that I haven't posted in, um, 10 months or so (or is it 9? the heat inhibits arithmetic), but I am currently not only housebound but couchbound by a combination of insane heat, human flesh in the form of two newborns, and ennui. I could elaborate on the arrival of the newborns (who weren't even conceived yet last time I posted), but since it would be awfully self-serving to imagine anyone reads this that isn't explicitly directed to it by me, I'll just assume you all know that I recently had twins and have therefore not slept or thought coherently in 27 days now.

Since I also have not really left the house in 27 days, except for food (actually, I haven't much left it since posting in October, thanks to a healthy but still fairly hideous twin pregnancy), I don't have loads of exciting recent adventures to recount. Oh, except for the twins' launch itself, I guess, but I don't feel like writing that up right now. So, to make this reinaugural post slightly longer than one sad paragraph, I will describe my immediate surroundings:

I am, as I have been for months now, on the smaller of the two couches in the living room. If ever I am kidnapped or (more likely, given my not-kidnapper-friendly girth, moodiness, and general lack of hygiene since the twins came) run away from home, my husband can direct the police to my couch so they can make an assprint to match me with when they track me down. I have one twin lying on my arm, as he only wants to sleep or exist at all in constant human contact. The other twin is sprawled out next to me, against my leg - she's more accommodating and will accept this being-held substitute long enough for me to type this. Both are in diapers only, and I am in the same maternity-shirt-and-husband's-shorts fashion statement I wore to bed last night (see what I mean about kidnappers not being likely to target me?). The living room is fairly disheveled - covered in a thick layer of disorganized, mostly broken or at least missing-parts toys - but best of all is my eldest son. He is on the floor at my feet, tethered to my right ankle by a bungee cord that he put around his own neck and licking Sprite out of a plastic cup and barking. Like a dog. Very convincingly, actually. This is his creative-yet-disturbing way of getting attention from a mother in the final stages of terminal sleep deprivation. My other son has escaped with my mother to the grocery store, which I usually hate but which sounds enticing now that I think of its air conditioned atmosphere. We have a window a/c unit in the living room, but it is woefully inadequate to 100 degree, 60% humidity days like today.

Twins are stirring, so this is it for now. Any bets on how long it will be until I post again?