Will I Survive?
Today I was supposed to wake up early, do the whole make-up while still home thing, and be on time at work, because we often have meetings on Friday mornings.
However, I was deeply asleep this morning. I could tell, right away when my alarm went off, that I was going to be unusually tired. More tired than the tired I've been since the beginning of this week. So I struggled out of bed, fumbled around, dozed in the shower, and then fumbled around some more. I put my make-up on and was surprised to see that the make-up I use that usually covers up the tiredness is doing nothing for me today.
On top of that, my stomach decided that it's time to rebel against me with jolts of pain. Which I try my best to ignore, though it's kind of hard. Then the jeans I'd planned to wear today turned out to be in my laundry basket--it seems I hadn't washed them yet. So I grabbed a different pair out of my closet. Unfortunately, it was one of my pairs of skinny jeans. You know the kind that every woman keeps in her closet for the day she finally makes it through all of that diet. Without anymore time to change, I had to lie on the bed in order to get zipped up. And the whole time I was cursing the last donut I'd eaten and yanking up the zipper, while taking a deep, deep breath, The Ripper watched me with a mixture of alarm and amusement from his comfortable perch on the bed.
Somehow I left the house around 20 minutes later than I should have. And then I hit the school zone. Which made me fervently wish that all kids could be home schooled so their parents would stop clogging the streets. Don't get me wrong, I like kids. They tend to be cute (most of them), but not that early in the morning, when I'm running late. Yet, while I should have been panicking and cursing, that tired fog in my brain allowed me to simply numbly drive along. Or maybe it was that it took all of my concentration to remember that red means stop and green means go.
On the way in, I tried to put my car keys away and managed to turn my coffee mug horizontal, so that a stream ran down my hand. I blame the pants. They make me walk funny, even though they're rather flattering for my butt.
I do count my lucky stars though that there was no 8 a.m. meeting today, as I was actually 18 minutes late, not the 8 minutes late I thought I would be, and consequently told my supervisor I would be. And now, as I sit here writing this as a way to be prevent myself from collapsing on the keyboard and dying from electrocution by way of drool, I can't help but fantasize about this guy I secretly have a crush on, but more importantly I can't help but consider my plans tonight.
"What plans?" You ask with complete disinterest and apathy. Well, remember the previous entry you most likely didn't read about one of the meetup.com groups I joined? Well they're meeting at Glass Cactus tonight. One group is meeting earlier at 7:30 (happy hour and before cover charge) and another at 10. I do know that I want to go simply because it's been forever since I've gone dancing. The last time I went dancing, Elvis was alive. Okay, technically that's impossible, but you get the idea. So I'm trying to convince my friend K, who also joined this group awhile back, but never signed up for any of the meet ups, to go with me.
I want to dance, sip on a cocktail, and longingly eye hotties, while wishing upon a bright star for the courage to approach them. Never mind, to simply meet their eyes and actually smile is challenge enough. Unless I'm completely wasted and then things get a little crazy, but I have no plans for total inebriation, especially as I'll probably end up driving.
So, some questions arise. Will I survive the fog that has taken over me? Will I manage to convince K to come with me tonight? What time should I go to Glass Cactus? And, will I manage to approach a handsome stranger and mark off an item on my 25-things-to-do list? Actually, I'd even like to approach a handsome non-stranger, if he's single, as that, too, would prove as likely as Democrats taking over Texas.
If you're lucky, I'll update you on what I decide, unless the fog finishes consuming me and I crawl under my desk to merrily pass out. Or if you finally admit that you don't read these entries. Though you'd have to read it to know that you can now admit it. So, um, where's the rest of my coffee? I'm confused.
However, I was deeply asleep this morning. I could tell, right away when my alarm went off, that I was going to be unusually tired. More tired than the tired I've been since the beginning of this week. So I struggled out of bed, fumbled around, dozed in the shower, and then fumbled around some more. I put my make-up on and was surprised to see that the make-up I use that usually covers up the tiredness is doing nothing for me today.
On top of that, my stomach decided that it's time to rebel against me with jolts of pain. Which I try my best to ignore, though it's kind of hard. Then the jeans I'd planned to wear today turned out to be in my laundry basket--it seems I hadn't washed them yet. So I grabbed a different pair out of my closet. Unfortunately, it was one of my pairs of skinny jeans. You know the kind that every woman keeps in her closet for the day she finally makes it through all of that diet. Without anymore time to change, I had to lie on the bed in order to get zipped up. And the whole time I was cursing the last donut I'd eaten and yanking up the zipper, while taking a deep, deep breath, The Ripper watched me with a mixture of alarm and amusement from his comfortable perch on the bed.
Somehow I left the house around 20 minutes later than I should have. And then I hit the school zone. Which made me fervently wish that all kids could be home schooled so their parents would stop clogging the streets. Don't get me wrong, I like kids. They tend to be cute (most of them), but not that early in the morning, when I'm running late. Yet, while I should have been panicking and cursing, that tired fog in my brain allowed me to simply numbly drive along. Or maybe it was that it took all of my concentration to remember that red means stop and green means go.
On the way in, I tried to put my car keys away and managed to turn my coffee mug horizontal, so that a stream ran down my hand. I blame the pants. They make me walk funny, even though they're rather flattering for my butt.
I do count my lucky stars though that there was no 8 a.m. meeting today, as I was actually 18 minutes late, not the 8 minutes late I thought I would be, and consequently told my supervisor I would be. And now, as I sit here writing this as a way to be prevent myself from collapsing on the keyboard and dying from electrocution by way of drool, I can't help but fantasize about this guy I secretly have a crush on, but more importantly I can't help but consider my plans tonight.
"What plans?" You ask with complete disinterest and apathy. Well, remember the previous entry you most likely didn't read about one of the meetup.com groups I joined? Well they're meeting at Glass Cactus tonight. One group is meeting earlier at 7:30 (happy hour and before cover charge) and another at 10. I do know that I want to go simply because it's been forever since I've gone dancing. The last time I went dancing, Elvis was alive. Okay, technically that's impossible, but you get the idea. So I'm trying to convince my friend K, who also joined this group awhile back, but never signed up for any of the meet ups, to go with me.
I want to dance, sip on a cocktail, and longingly eye hotties, while wishing upon a bright star for the courage to approach them. Never mind, to simply meet their eyes and actually smile is challenge enough. Unless I'm completely wasted and then things get a little crazy, but I have no plans for total inebriation, especially as I'll probably end up driving.
So, some questions arise. Will I survive the fog that has taken over me? Will I manage to convince K to come with me tonight? What time should I go to Glass Cactus? And, will I manage to approach a handsome stranger and mark off an item on my 25-things-to-do list? Actually, I'd even like to approach a handsome non-stranger, if he's single, as that, too, would prove as likely as Democrats taking over Texas.
If you're lucky, I'll update you on what I decide, unless the fog finishes consuming me and I crawl under my desk to merrily pass out. Or if you finally admit that you don't read these entries. Though you'd have to read it to know that you can now admit it. So, um, where's the rest of my coffee? I'm confused.