Some days I wake up early enough to dry my hair like a real human being, and I eat a hearty breakfast before entering my car. I drive the speed limit with time to spare when I punch in at work. I greet my coworkers cheerfully, and then I set to my tasks with a smile on my face.
Some days I spend my lunch breaks eating a nutritious meal, possibly reading some edifying book about how great and Godly waiting is... and then I work diligently 'til sometime after five.
After which, I go home and tidy up my kitchen, wash a load of laundry, have a nice chat with my sweet elderly neighbors (the ones who do not live upstairs, beside me OR tape notes to my doors) and then, on really great days, I even fold the clean clothes before calling it a night around 11 p.m.
Today, is just NOT one of those days.
Today I woke up about 30 minutes before it was time to be at work, which may or may not have been caused by the 49 cent rental special happening now at Hastings. (They really should start paying me... JOSH?!)
I sped to the office and arrived four minutes late, out-of-breath, with wet hair, and granola bar bits all over my shirt.
I worked. And made coffee. And worked. And drank coffee. And then I worked a little more before switching to Coke, and eating a bucket of my coworker's homemade salsa.
At four I ate the leftover Little Caesar's I brought in an HEB reusable sack (which reminds me, I really need to buy a lunch box). Cold. Without ranch dressing. While still working. With one hand. (Which means not efficiently.)
And now, I will head home/apartment/towards the siren zone of the city.
But not to tidy up my kitchen, or to finally fold the clean jeans that have been slowly migrating to the middle of my bed for the last four days.
No, today I will head out of here and probably lay out by the pool. And, for the record, I'll probably do this in not-washed athletic shorts and a tank top until all my extremities have fallen asleep and it makes standing up nearly impossible.
I'll do this, instead of swimming, because today I am too lazy to climb into the pool (much less a bathing suit). (Also, because the non-elderly neighbors like to swim too, and they make me nervous.)
After that excitement, and waddling back to my apartment like a lobster, I'll probably watch a movie, while finishing off what's left of my large pizza. Then I'll switch to my King-sized bag of Twizzlers for dessert (even though I'm supposed to be off the stuff).
When the wrapper is empty, and I've watched all of the special features (what you do when you don't have cable) I'll put All About Steve (yup, I totally rented it!) back in its case, and then I'll probably meander to the kitchen for my second glass of water of the day.
While there I'll think to myself "man, I really oughtta wash those dishes." But instead of actually doing them, I'll just cover my nose while retreating to my bedroom, which doesn't yet smell like crusty salmon filet (unlike my kitchen/laundry and dining rooms).
Sidestepping the eight pairs of shoes now residing beside my dresser, I'll lay me down to sleep, avoiding the large heap of jeans, and I'll dream that tomorrow will be more productive, and/or about the really fancy cabbage shaped dishes and coatracks that Ikea is now selling (or at least they were selling in my dream last night).
It's not a perfect day, maybe, but it is what it is. And for whatever reason I feel like I should be grateful for it.
I was gonna conclude this post with Toby Keith's "My List," partly 'cause it's amazing how only country superstars, such as him, can get away with raising a little hell and passing the offering plate in the same sentence, but it turns out the video is really depressing.
So instead I'm just gonna say, "Happy Is-It-Friday-Yet? Friends."
Hope you enjoy today for whatever it is in your neck of the world.
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