I thought I’d sleep in this morning since I went to bed last night at 1:15 a.m. However, after dropping off my daughter at school and crawling back under the covers, the phone rang. It was our accountant with some tax issues that needed correcting.
Fortunately, the error was not ours, but the payroll department’s . . . and even more fortunately, the money we owe for taxes is much less than I had feared. Still unpleasant, but not devastating. I hate taxes.
Still. It was hard to fall back to sleep after having that rush of adrenaline course through my veins.
I spent my morning trying on a variety of outfits, trying to decide which made me look the least fat. (I am going to a conference on Friday.) Only those of you who have experience the joy of gaining weight will understand the disheartening experience of trying to clothe a body you hardly recognize. If you see me next weekend at Mt. Hermon, please do not look at me. Pretend that I an invisible. Thank you.
No, seriously, that was fine. What can you do? (I can’t lose thirty pounds by Friday morning, unless, of course, I have one leg amputated. Well, maybe both legs. And an arm up to the elbow.)
Then I picked up my daughter from school and returned home to clean up the kitchen and work on laundry. I worked my usual eight hours today–split shifts, ending at midnight, and now I have two full days before I leave for California. I have distilled my goals into two things: 1) Clean out fridge so I don’t have to throw away moldy food when I return and 2) Wash, dry, fold and put away all laundry. Everything else can wait.
I’m at that curious stage of conference preparation where I shake my head and wonder what in the world I was thinking. Why am I going again? I can hardly remember. I wish my passion were for something easier, like . . . well, tending the lawn or giving myself manicures.
I am going to sleep now. If I am very lucky, I will be sound asleep by 1:00 a.m. If I am unlucky, I will not.