Writing: Write about going away???

Write about going away?! To where? What kind of journaling prompt is that? Just not an option for me. Four kids keeps me firmly planted in either my living room, the minivan or the grocery store. The truth is I'm tiiiii-rrreeedddd. I nap at the drop of a hat. Each moment is evaluated on the sleep spectrum, 1 being a "no way in hell can I sleep without having the apartment coming down around my ears" and a 10 being, "yup, it is midnight and most of the children are finally asleep."
I usually find my napping to happen at a 5 on the spectrum-- "if I sleep real light hubby might not notice and start spouting the inequalities of my napping when he works graveyard and only gets 6 1/2 hours sleep--OR--if I sleep real light I'll notice if Lucas is going to try and make toast again."
Oh, damn, the toast incident. Lucas, just a wee little boy with the capabilities of an ornery tiger cub, decided he was gonna make his mama toast. He told me he was going to do this so I had proper forewarning. He's seen us do this a thousand freakin' times so I figured he could handle it. But I still remained on high alert. He put two pieces of bread into one freakin' slot. Which required squishing. Which prompted burning. And smoke.
Now, even on high alert, I'm distracted because I'm not just on Lucas High Alert but also Medium Alerts for Cassidy, Dylan and Skyler. But the smoke got my attention.
All in all, it just required unplugging the toaster and performing a toast-ectomy to remove the burnt crisp bread. Yum. Boy, he was pissed though. Mama can't even leave his toast alone. I'm so hard to please.
The other thing, along with tiredness is that I have been bored on my ass lately. Bored...boooorrrreeeddd. I have no motivation to create and my writing is still tormenting me. It torments me and I choose not to visit it. I have been reading compulsively and even the authors are starting to bug me. Hmmm...possibly it is all information overload.
However, my neighbors continue to both intrigue and annoy me at the same time. Had a morbid dream last night that Downstairs Neighbor committed homicide and suicide. Nice. I felt so bad for the family yet actually heard myself say in the dream, "Wow, I don't have to worry about the noise anymore." I felt awful as soon as I said it...in my dream. Reminder to self to take meds in a.m. not p.m.
But the vah-tos (listen, I don't know the damn spelling of Vatos which will probably require an accent on a vowel that I can not conjure up without looking at a reference guide and none of that is going to happen while I'm nursing Cassidy at the keyboard) entertained me tonight. Head Shit Homeboy who is sketchy beyond all belief (he interrogated Mike the day he was setting up our phone lines when we moved in--for those who don't know, Mike works for the phone company. For said interrogation, Head Shit Homeboy leaves his property and comes to where Mike is playing with wires at phonebox and says to Mike, "What, are you tappin' my lines or somethin'?" Mike told him he was just setting up the lines for the new occupants.) Do I sense some paranoia?
Anyway, Head Shit Homeboy had his friends all over tonight and I went outside for a smoke. I had Mom-ma on the phone so I wouldn't be lonely. I look up and two cops cars come rolling down the street and pull in beside where his friends parked. Being that we are on a street that is shaped like a court, people sometimes pull in nose first rather than parallel park. So it kinda resembles a parking lot. Anyway, cops pulled in, pulled out their flashlights and even though the gate was visible, they were shining the light on the frontyard grass. I'm sure there was more but I got the shit back in my apartment, because truly the last thing I need is for HSH to see Suspicious White Girl (that would be me) on the PHONE WHEN COPS SUDDENLY SHOW UP. Not good.