Monday.
Wake up. Traffic and weather on the eights.
Feed and entertain child (Zoom on PBS). Yogurt and "soft bagel" today. Juice.
Supervise dressing of child. Good work, sweetie.
Coffee. Shower. Dress self.
Grab all child-related equipment for Monday morning load-in at school.
Drive to school. Listen to Backyardigans while the child watches Backyardigans on iPod.
Drop off child. Load cubby. Goofy good-byes to the class.
Head to door.
8:17 a.m. Monday, April 2, 2007
Normally, I'd walk to work. You know that thing we all complain is so stupid but without it we'd have one less (huge) pillar of self-esteem to rely upon. You know, work, that thing that we do that they give you money for. Money you use to pay bills, pay for shelter, food, and clothing. Money. Damn, my car uses premium at $300/gallon. Money. The kid's birthday is in 8 days. Oh, everything.
It was 8:17 and I had only a shell of a plan. But, it didn't include seeing the people I relied upon for daily hijinx, entertainment, and fulfillment (intellectual and emotional).
Fuck it. Gotta rock.
