For a laugh

I woke at 5.30 am yesterday, wrote for an hour before my usual busy day with kidlets began.
Worked full 90 minutes of toddler nap.
Worked solid 3 hours last night.
Book is going great guns but I'm too brain dead to blog.

So this joke will have to do for today:

A writer dies, but because of the way he lived, he's given the choice of where he wants to go. Saint Peter brings him into a large room with a low ceiling, poorly lit, with no ventilation. The room is filled with men and women chained to desks,