Thursday, February 26, 2009

My Morning

subtitled: Why I Didn't Get To Work Early

This morning, thanks to my shrink-sized bladder, I woke up a little over an hour before my alarm was set to ring. Which got me out of bed about an hour and a half early, since there was no hitting the snooze on my need to hit the bathroom.

I thought that might mean I could do some additional Bible reading/study/prayer etc, and possibly even get to work a little earlier.

My first mistake was getting on the computer and not immediately getting off it. I do check email every morning, to make sure nothing major has happened, and most importantly to be certain that I didn't get a library book due notice. They're emailed to me, and I can go and try to renew online, and if the book(s) won't renew, I just bring them along with me to drop in the library box on my way to work. And yes, I have that many library books checked out at once that I rely on their system to keep track of when items are due and email me. Much simpler and safer than using my brainpower.

30 minute+ later I finally made it downstairs to get breakfast and continue with the rest of my morning routine. I have no idea where those minutes went. Google Reader? A couple of moments on Twitter, but it didn't take me long to write my brief tweet. I didn't read emails for long. Really, the time just evaporated.

But, I got back into the swing of things with breakfast and tea and devotional and Bible reading. Then I spent a little time tidying up the dining room table and a couple of things in the kitchen. Still doing ok with time. And I'm dressed for work, although I still need to put on makeup (I got in the habit of holding off on that until I knew that breakfast would stay in place; I got tired of having to reapply mascara after extreme vomiting would bring me to tears).

Upstairs to put on makeup and brush my hair. That's when I really notice that my shirt just is. not. working. It's riding up weird and is showing every bump and bulge, and with the ill-fitting pants and bella band that are holding the pants up, there are a lot of strange bulges. Back to the closet, to change the shirt, and after much debating with myself grab a different shirt that's looser and more concealing of my middle section. And yet, not concealing enough. Still with the weirdness and I realize that the pants are just not going to be a good option - I can't fasten them, and the bella band isn't completely hiding that fact. Plus they're really not comfortable and are going to make me fuss with them all day and who needs that?

Back to the closet, to change my pants. Not a lot of options anymore, but I grab a pair that are probably somewhat questionable as to whether or not HR would approve (they're a very dark denim-looking trouser; HR forbids blue jeans; would they consider these blue jeans? I'm risking it). More dithering about do I really want to deal with any potential flack. Decide yes, I don't care what anyone might say. My pant options are too limited and it's these or a pair that would have to be dug out of the dirty clothes hamper.

Back downstairs where I'll need to finish packing my lunch and drink the last of my tea. And maybe read the Bible a tiny bit more, because I think I don't have time to focus on another chapter in that book on prayer I'm working through.

Before all that, another bathroom visit (see above, shrink-sized bladder). While washing my hands afterwards, notice a splotch of .... something ... on my light blue shirt. I think I've spilled tea perhaps. Grab a cloth and try to wash it out. Not sure if it's working. End up with a huge damp spot on my shirt. In an awkward spot and I certainly don't want to risk it not drying clean and unnoticeable. So back upstairs to change shirts. Again. Try a dark brown one this time, figuring I could spill anything on it other than powdered sugar and it'll hide.

Notice that my socks look rather strange with my new outfit. Change them. And find a different pair of shoes too, because again, the original shoes were to go with the original outfit.

L keeps shaking his head at my wardrobe issues.

Back downstairs. My extra time has all vanished. I wonder where it could have gone?

Lunch is packed. Tea has all been drunk (very carefully; don't want any more spills). Purse and bag are ready. Out the door and into the car.

As I drive down the street, I have a flash of fear - do I have my cell phone? Maybe not absolutely essential, but after my car issues last week I do not want to be without it. I know I had it when I left my computer this morning, but it's not in the pocket it lives in while in my purse. Check the main purse pocket. It's not there, so I circle the block and return home. Grab L's phone and use it to call mine. Go upstairs to listen for ringing. Walk around downstairs listening for it. L questions if it's in my purse. Decide to humor him and go back outside where I left my purse in the car. Hear it ringing from the bottom of my purse.

Back inside and yell upstairs that I found the phone, and I'm leaving for real this time. Gloss over where exactly I found the phone.

Out to my car. Can't turn the key in the ignition because of a charming little quirk that my car has. If I park the car without the steering wheel being fairly straight, the wheel locks up and then the key won't turn. To fix this, the wheel has to be straightened, which takes a fair amount of upper body strength. A few minutes of attempts later, I concede that my upper body strength is nonexistent in the morning, and go inside to ask L to assist.

Wait for him to finish getting his stuff ready for work, and then he comes outside to help me. Sits down, asks what I need again, and immediately turns the wheel so that it starts. He questioned that it needed anything at all, while I claimed that it was just his hugely strong self that made it look so easy.

Back into the drivers seat. Check - no warning lights on - filled up yesterday so I won't run out of gas - have my lunch - have my purse - have my phone - have my calendar - have my employee badge so I can get inside - yes, I think I might finally be ready to leave.

Pull out of the driveway right at my newly usual time. All the while feeling like I've put in a full days worth of work already and I should be able to just go back inside and sit on the couch.

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