The Morning Rush

The restaurant was incredibly busy last night, and I don't think I got home before 11:30, mentally grumbling because I knew it would take at least 30 minutes to wind down ... and I get up before 6 during the week.

After I had crawled into bed last night, I suddenly realized I hadn't set the alarm on my phone. But then I rationalized that Drew is usually smacking the snooze button on his at 6:15 or so; and I can just wake up with him instead.

So this morning ... I yawn .. I stretch like a cat, and crack one eye open. And in my sleepy haze, mumble: "What time is it?"
 "Ten of 7."

I pause ... and then with a gasp, fly out of bed like a bat outta hell ... because holy mother of God, I usually leave at 7 to drop Bristol off at daycare for the day (yes, I take my dog to daycare. Don't judge) and subsequently get myself to the office.

So picture this: I passed out in my undershirt from Olive Garden so I royally reek of dirty garlic ... I didn't bother to shower at midnight, so my 2-days of unwashed hair + however much hairspray I used yesterday isn't helping the disheveled appearance. I'm running down the stairs, brushing my teeth in the process to let the dog out, feed the cat and find a pair of pants. Somehow, in that hot mess? I'd gotten myself dressed (and presentable), the dog in the car, a banana in hand ... and made it to the office with 10 minutes to spare.

But now of course ... the front desk is all caught up on data entry ... I'm dog-ass tired, I don't have any coffee and I have absolutely nothing to do.

Fan friggin tastic. All that stress ... just so I can sit here and twiddle my thumbs.