Chronicling My Insanity

If you hear about a woman in Pennsylvania spontaneously combusting, that would be me. It's called stress, bay-bee. I know this is all I've talked about. I can't help it. It's consuming me, and eventually, it's going to consume me in a great ball of flames, not even leaving a char mark on the floor. I figure that's about my only way out at this point. I shouldn't even be sitting here, but when I write it all down, it gives me something solid to hang onto. It's like my little pail of water to douse the fire.

Stupid school was delayed two hours this morning. That ruins my whole morning. If Booie weren't in Kindergarten, it wouldn't be so bad. So I had both my kids home, which meant no errands and last-minute gift-buying like I planned. Since Kindergarten is modified (meaning they cut it down to not enough time for me to go do anything), my morning is limited to what I can do at home. Not like I don't have anything to do here.

11:12 PM

Less to complain about

This is almost the most adorable thing of the day and would have been if it weren't for seeing Boo dance for Santa at dance class and seeing both kids sit on Santa's lap this evening and then pet and feed reindeer. It's things like these that make all the running around and craziness worth it.

Obviously, we finally got our tree up and decorated. I got all my shopping done except for presents for the kids' teachers. I got Hammy's school party stuff all handed off. I managed to make some cookie dough, so we can bake those sugar cookies tomorrow. I even wrapped some gifts and did some laundry. The only thing I haven't done is send out my Christmas cards. That will be the last time I think I'm ahead on that one.

Barring a freak snowstorm, the kids will go to school at the usual hour, and I can get those gifts bought, then wrap until my body is covered in paper cuts, which I can sooth on the wet clothes as I put them from the washer to the dryer during my laundry-fest. So it's shop, laundry, wrap, cookies, pack. Oh� don't let me forget a new book to read on the plane, but I can buy that at the airport. Yes, Virginia, I will be done by Christmas.

At least I wasn't down for the count with this cold. I sound like I've been smoking four packs of cigarettes a day since I was born, but it sounds a hundred times worse than it is. And boy, does it earn me some sympathy points! I had harried sales clerks giving me those puppy dog pity looks, and they have to have it worse than I do right about now.

Between this cold and leaving in two days, I have people tripping over themselves to lend a hand. I'm getting a little tired of hearing, "Awwww," every two sentences though. I'm not even complaining to these people. (I do enough of that in the journal.) All they have to know is I'm leaving on the 21st and hear I have a cold, and it's Sympathy City. But you know what I do? I still do everything myself. I need to do something about my goofy way of thinking.

But it's late after a long day of running around. I'm tired, and John just came home. That seems like a good cue to go to bed.