Monday, Monday

I would love to tell you that I haven't blogged yet today because I've been busy getting a job, or being pampered at a spa, or winning the lottery, or being wooed by the man of my dreams. Alas. None of these are true. I haven't blogged yet today because I have been very busy with, um, boring stuff.

When we got up this morning it was 40 degrees outside. But the forecast claimed it was going to be 70, later on. I managed to talk the shivering children out of their sweaters and snowsuits, but the originally planned t-shirts and jeans weren't thrilling them. By the time we made it out the door, each child was wearing no less than four top layers. Any guesses on how many of those 8 pieces of clothing will make it home this afternoon? Anyone?

The bus was early and Chickadee ran to meet it, never even saying goodbye, nevermind a kiss or a hug. This, of course, convinced me that some horrible bus accident or school explosion will happen today and Chickadee will die and I will live the rest of my life regretting that this morning I told her she eats oatmeal like a cross between a sloth and an orangutan instead of giving her a kiss and telling her I loved her. I may have forgotten to take my meds last night.

After I got Monkey situated at school, I returned home to finally take a shower. I could've showered this morning before taking the kids, but that would've involved getting up even earlier. And did I mention how cold it was this morning? Anyway, aside from my legendary butchering of my ankles while shaving my legs, a shower doesn't usually result in bodily injury, for me, but I was in rare form today. Somehow I smacked my elbow against the wall hard enough to make me see stars. It still hurts whenever I bend it. (Yes, Dad, I know--don't bend it.) So then I got ready pretty slowly because it can really slow you down to whimper and swear while you're trying to get dressed and such.

Then I remembered that we were down to the last pop-tart (horrors!) so I did a grocery run. Sadly, I didn't go to the grocery store, but instead went to a large, faceless, soulless megastore which happens to carry pop-tarts for way less than the supermarket does. There I pondered such timeless quandaries as "Why does a 5-count Swiffer Duster pack with a handle cost less than half the 10-count Swiffer Duster pack without a handle?" I do my best meditative thinking there. I also picked up a loaf of challah off the "Oops, we baked too much!" rack. It looked so sad and lonely. But I just made french toast this weekend, so I'm not sure what I'll do with it. Maybe I'll try a bread pudding recipe.

Top it all off with a trip to the bank to deposit the tardy child support check, and there you have my extremely thrilling day. Don't everybody wish they were me, all at once. It could cause a rift in the space-time continuum, or something.

Next up: an intensive narration of the process of filing my nails. Just as gripping as this entry! Don't miss it!