It is Wednesday, one of those weekdays that started off the same as ever, feet to floor, then chore after chore, in my morning march to be out the front door, etc. Yet almost immediately, things began careening off the rails. By an hour into it, I was already running 20 minutes behind, increasingly addled, and for no clear reason. I wasn’t moving any slower, that I could tell, but things were taking longer regardless, with my brain feeling more and more like a pinball (kids, you can look it up) whacked one too many times by the bumpers, and almost begging for a miss, and a roll down the drain. I wasn’t having to do that much more than usual, which even then I can usually adjust for, and keep things between the lines. And yet. And yet. The train. The rails. Aieee!
On the way out the door, finally, it occurred to me that I might want to double-check that I had put on pants. Because, y’know, not having on pants, well, it’s kinda been that kinda day.
And, yea, there were pants. I had indeed put on pants. Pants, pants, hallelujah.
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