It’s official.

I have been Diagnosed.

Last night, my uncle-the-psychiatrist informed me that I’m borderline manic, whatever that means.

All I did was announce that I want to take all of the next generation of cousins to Disney World. There are seven of them, ranging in age from 13 to 3, not counting my brother’s son, who’s 4 months and nowhere near weaned.

What’s so manic about that?