I woke up this morning and realized I’m still hysterical, so I won’t write about Sarah Palin — not yet, maybe not ever. But I’ll dance around the edges.

Last night I walked past our playroom (once the formal — ha! — dining room in our ramshackled but well-loved house) and realized it looks just like a “before” picture for one of those shows, like Clean Sweep. That’s appropriate, since I spend a lot of time looking over my shoulder, waiting for Stacy and Clinton from What Not To Wear to pop out and offer me $5000 to quit dressing like such a schlub.

I’ve not seen Sarah Palin’s house, but judging by her look — from her hair down to her heels — it does not resemble mine.

For now, I will say no more. I am going to focus my hysterical energy on cleaning out the playroom and giving the toys the girls have outgrown to the needy families of babies with Down syndrome and teen moms.

Whoops. Did I say that?