get out of bed.
find extra boxes, sort laundry, make a list, fill water bottle, pack the car, race to weekly meeting, slow down so i don’t get another speeding ticket on this hill, hit the gym – walk, jog, cross-country-ski, shower, stop at Target, check voicemail, return calls, change appointments around, make 3 more phone calls, race to friend’s house to drop off paper projects, get directions to craftstore, race to craftstore for more adhesive, drive back to friend’s house, drop off adhesive (and the munchkin adheared to my leg), race to dad’s house, start laundry, look through boxes and sort, pack, bag, toss, scratch my head and wonder “Why on earth do I still have Windows 95?, shuffle, reorganize, take trash out, check laundry: “Why are the pants that have been in the dryer for 45 minutes still half wet and soapy?”, bag wet laundry, eat dinner, race to mom’s, drop off wet soapy laundry and instruct her not to wash it for me, drop boxes of U.P.S. off at The Goodwill, race to church for “Ladies Night,” gag at the sound of “Oh Yes, Its Ladie’s Night… ” – you know the song, the one you don’t want stuck in your head while you’re pushing through a sea of 3,000 women- this is not my idea of a fun Friday night, look for car keys, look again for car keys, rip purse open and shake it violently, push through mob, stare at ground looking for car keys, retrace steps, look for car keys, WHERE ARE MY CAR KEYS?, call the Auto Club, wait for tow truck, call fiance, tell him that NO, my keys are NOT in my purse, tell nice man with speech impediment that NO, my keys are not in my purse, get into car, search the floorboards, search between the seats, cut finger open while searching under the seat, begin violently shaking purse so that the nice Au -Au -Auto Club representative doesn’t know I’m about to have a meltdown, turn purse upside down, continue shaking, hear the car keys that were “not in my purse” fall to the ground, groan, realize i’m bleeding, look at car keys and consider driving home with bloody finger, look at dirty windshield and realize that realistically, it’ll be another 6 months before i’ll wash my car, don’t wanna get blood on the upholstery cuz dried blood doesn’t cooperate after six months, sigh as i realize that i’m gonna have to dive back into the sea of women “Oh Yes, Its Ladies Night…” to get a Bandaid, ask 3 people who really should know where a Bandaid is, find someone who knows where a Bandaid is, realize that i just came from a biblestudy with this woman and i look like a turkey because i have NO idea what her name is, get Bandaid, laugh at the irony of an inocuous little wrapper that reveals a Tazmanian Devil bandage on the inside, put Bandaid on finger, the Bandaid is not gonna stick to this part of my finger, take off Bandaid, make a mental note to stop laughing at MiniMartha for stocking a box of every shape of bandage ever invented, hold my breath and dive back into the sea of women “Oh Yes, Its Ladies Night, and the feeling’s right…”, run to car, race home, read, pack gym bag, take pill, look for short sleeve pijamas because its 90 degrees upstairs, get in bed in the buff because its 90 degrees upstairs, remember that the fiance just blogged about being bored , wonder what his friday has been like, get out of bed (still in the buff) and write out a “Honey Dew” list.

pass out on the bed.