I knew the whole day would be messed up from the moment my body refused to cooperate with my spirit and roll me out of bed. I drank too much wine lastnight and this morning I just wanted to go back into my dream.
I tried to slow the clock by strategically planning how to make up the time on the road.
The snooze button was a like a pimp, taking more than it really gave. "Well," I asked myself, "what’s the point of getting up and standing in front of the closet for another half hour?" Naturally the only obvious thing to do is spend the time in bed thinking about what I’m going to wear so I don’t end up standing in front of the closet door doing the same thing, or sitting on the toilet brushing my teeth and staring into space for half an hour.
Well, wouldn't you know it, I fell asleep thinking about what to wear and I dreamed I was dressed and at work and my cell phone was ringing, but it sounded like my home phone. Holy SHIT! When I woke up, it was really late and the office was calling. I didn't pick up. I wondered if I should call back and call in sick since our office policy seems to be "better never than late" - but today was our Christmas lunch at Vincent's Italian restaurant - so I sprung from the bed, took a whore shower, grabbed anything my hand touched in the closet and decided to do my hair in the car.
... but why the hell can men shave in their car, and yet no one has bothered to make a battery-operated blow dryer and curling iron or an attachment that plugs into the lighter. RRRRRR!!!
