Marathon Monday

I can tell that today is going to be one of those days. Where it is barely 8 a.m. and I feel like I'm already running around in circles and wishing I could attach that old IV of caffeine to wheel around with me.

After an exhausting but fun weekend away visiting family we are all feeling a bit done. Well, all meaning the 'rents and not T.D. The kid took a four hour nap yesterday afternoon and was up bright and chipper at the wonderful hour of 6 a.m. My eyes would not budge open and my limbs felt dead to the world. As I lay there willing myself to get up and start the day I wonder- is it even worth throwing in the gym time when I feel like Mondays are a marathon anyway?

6:30 a.m.- Wake up Momma! Run upstairs and throw on gym clothes (yes, we have a loft bathroom which H loathes and I love.)

6:40 a.m.- Run down two flights of stairs and feed the dog and T.D. This requires me back tracking all over the kitchen as both dog and kid do loops around me as I put water and dog food in bowls, scoop yogurt into a dish, get milk and beg the coffeemaker to pour itself into a cup for me, pretty please?!

6:45 a.m.- Pour coffee. Leave it on counter as I run upstairs to fight the laundry monster. It has grown to epic proportions and I am beginning to wonder if the dog is wearing our clothes at night and sneaking them into the laundry. How can three people generate so much laundry?!

7:15 a.m.- Laundry sorted. Run down stairs with first load. Drop on living room floor to get T.D. more milk. Wipe up yogurt on T.D. and kitchen table and top of dogs head. Dog is relieved it no longer has to try and extend her tongue to the top of her head to get at said yogurt.

7:20 a.m.- Run downstairs to laundry room. Realize that while the washer is empty the dryer is not. Clothes from Friday, still damp, are sitting in there. Re-wash. Sigh. Throw other pile on floor and try to shut laundry room door without the laundry monster busting out and biting my ankles.

7:25 a.m.- Turn on desktop in office to print items I need for the day. Become scattered, leave office, stare at laundry, run upstairs to start a grocery list.

7:30 a.m.- See coffee. Gaze at it and become distracted by cries for more yogurt. Get yogurt for T.D. She screams at me that it is really cereal she wants. Pour cereal. Pour milk. She screams. No Milk. Want to claw my own eyes out.

7:40 a.m.- Run back downstairs to laundry room and rip out laundry in dryer. Will air dry. Must get laundry monster under control. Dash back upstairs after fiddling with desktop postal forms for ten minutes to no avail. International shipping requires a trek to the dreaded post office where I will feel I've lost a decade off my life. Small post office near me only takes cash and UPS is a total price raping for even the smallest package. Must head across town I realize to a 'real' post office.

7:55 a.m.- Sip coffee. Grocery list is completed with little gagging on my behalf as all food still seems totally unappetizing unless it is the following food groups- Popsicles, cream cheese and pasta.

8:20 a.m.- Run upstairs, strip bed. Growl at laundry in corner and run away as it growls back. Back downstairs I stare at emails about potential job inquiries that I need to take and yet I'm afraid of. I hate that about myself. I must grow a set and just take on some new projects. Realize Australian stroller company I want to review has no contact information on their site. WTF?!

9:03 a.m.- Throw dry cleaning, postal supplies, library books and all other needed errand related paraphernalia at the front door. Think about gym time. Realize I need it desperately but how on earth will I ever get anything done if I go?

9:11 a.m.- Get T.D. dressed. Throw on shoes. Load up the car. Pack snacks for me and the babe and head out the door with no game plan on where to go to next. Think about crawling back into bed and finishing latest Kinsella book.

If you see me out and about today around town. Just ignore me. I'm nice deep down inside and I really don't bite. I'm just running the Monday marathon.

The State of Things

Maybe it's the fact that I walked ten miles today and got up at the butt crack of dawn.

Maybe it's that H is gone and T.D. and I have ensconced ourselves in some silly dream world where we no longer live in the world of responsibilities and adult behavior but in lax land where everyday is man 'n' cheese day and pajamas are de rigeur. We've rocked out to 'Slow Ride' by Foghat more times than I can count. Toys are piled on furniture. The television is always on in some room if only for the noise. Last I looked some constant loop of 'Lost' was playing in the kitchen.

I can't even bring myself to look at laundry monster that is lurking, growling and taking over the upstairs of my house.

A zit has taken up residence on my face the size of Bolivia and if it doesn't go away soon I might take a blow torch to it or start teaching it French. Either way would be an improvement. I swear it has its own personality and it's an ornery bastard.

I've bit off more than I can chew in the work department and I'm feeling sorely underpaid. I guess that happens when you get paid zada. There I just made up a new word. I'm wicked smot!

Maybe my creative juices will actually start up again and I can stop feeling sullen and dried up like some old crone who has nothing good to say but decides that talking about anything, even if it the topic is the squirrely manager at the Safeway, it is better than talking about nothing. Though it would be infinitely more interesting to talk to the mean old bat (probably my age) at the brand spankin' new Panera this morning, but I won't. I'll save that for later I think.

Despite the fact that I'm a single parent for a while I'm not having a day like this one. Because here's the thing- for some reason all this concentrated T.D. time has not made me insane yet. I think I've actually fallen for my little dictator just a bit more the last few days. Her newly acquired evil laugh and all.