One of Those Weeks

And your life feels like it's running you.

I'm all out of sorts this week and every smudge on our wood floor mocks me. I won't go into my guest room because it just a visual representation of how I've felt since school has started. Thank God for Chris and the dinners he shoves down my throat around 9 p.m. before I go to bed.

I'd like to tell you about my morning. I woke up at 4:45 to study. It's fine - I work better in the morning than I do when I'm over-exhausted at the end of the day. That's not the ridiculous part.

About an hour after I had started studying, I remembered I was hungry. REALLY hungry. But, also really tired. 

Food wins every time. 

I got up from my chair and semi-walked to the freezer. Toaster strudel it is. As I lean forward to put the pastry in the toaster, a shock of pain FLOODS through my abdomen. There was a fork... sticking out of the utensil drawer. Like, someone (CHRIS) closed the drawer and left the prongs of a fork to stick out in aggression. And, I had just thrusted into it with the majority of my body weight. Touche, fork. Touche. I'll put you back where you belong.

But, my strudel is ready. I always rub the packet of frosting in between my hands to warm it up. It's been in the freezer, after all. 

This packet had a hole in it. 

So, imagine my surprise when both of my hands were covered in frosting. I managed to salvage what was left in the packet and (not attractively) put it on my toaster effing strudel.

Now, it's time for the juice (You know where this is going)

It's 5:45 and ALL I want in life is my Picasso-looking pastry and Cran-Acai juice. But someone, put the juice bottle in the fridge with the cap untwisted - but, twisted enough so I thought it was on. Mother effer. Whatever. It was probably me. So, yeah. It spilled on floor.

Clorox Wipes

Paper Towels

Clean

Pour My Juice.

Sit Back Down

This is where I notice the fine print on my syllabus: "You may use the front and back of a 3x5 index card during all of the exams"

I've woken up two mornings in a row at 4:45 to try and memorize these stupid formulas. Touche, Syllabus. Touche.

And, then I buttoned my shirt up crookedly. 

That was my Thursday morning before I even got out the door.