Have you ever thought to yourself how you could probably kill someone and get away with it?

You know who else thinks like that? Serial killers.

Now whenever a friend enthusiastically tells me how much they enjoy the television show CSI, I can't help put have the same slight feeling of nausea I would if I spotted, "How to Make a Homemade Pipe Bomb" on their bookshelf.

For the past 8 weeks since my daughter entered the world, I have engaged in conversations with others - not really paying attention to what they're saying.

Because I don't care.

I can't. My insomniac head is completely drained of any remaining empathy. It's all been used on myself. Our daughter is, statistically, a horrifically fussy child. And we have also learned that she will need two serious kidney surgeries within the first year of her life.

Because of that, I haven't cared what's going on with those around me. And it makes me feel horrible. I listen to their stories, thinking to myself, "that's awful!" but without "feeling" awful in the slightest.

Is this what Californians feel like all the time?