Last night, for the first night in almost two weeks, I SLEPT LIKE A BABY.
Which is to say I did not lie down, roll back and forth from one side to the other endlessly, sigh heavily 437 times to let my bed-partner know how frustrated I was at my inability to nod off, get up to go to the bathroom 32 times (why does insomnia make you have to pee?), get up to go downstairs and play on the computer/watch television/read/eat until I was zombie-fied/my eyes blurred/there was no food left in the house, or exercise like mad until I got tired.
Yeah, I was totally kidding about that last one.
As a matter of fact, I was asleep mere minutes after my head hit the pillow. And what's more, I woke up at six ayem, raring to go!
So go I did.
I went downstairs to put a load of clothes in the dryer, took a shower, washed my hair, put make-up on, and (gasp!) did a set of scrunches. I got dressed, woke up The Boy for his Hour of Shower, then went downstairs to prepare my lunch. As I was putting on my shoes, I watched part of an episode of House.
I was cookin' with GAS, baby. The burners were on HIGH.
Hubster got home from his job and I left for work early. I was thinking I'd have enough time to stop by the local Starbucks and use the card I got for Mothers' Day.
I was hyped. I was ready. I was STOKED.
Coffee in hand, I got back to the car and headed down the road. I resisted taking even a sip of the Elixir of the Gods while on the road, choosing instead to savor its flavor and downright goodness once I got to work and for the remainder of the morning.
It was a good day. A very good day indeed.
I pulled into the parking lot, right on time. I loaded up a bag of stuff I needed, a full glass of ice water (with a lid), my lunch (in a Tupperware-ish container), my purse (which could be likened to a small duffle bag), and The Drink. There was quite a balancing act going on as I headed into the building, so I stopped halfway in to make sure The Drink was safe and sound - the only occupant of my right hand.
On the way into the building I met another employee. He opened the first of two doors, and then I reached to grab the second one. He, trying to be gracious, grabbed for the door at the same time I did.
And that's when the day started to go downhill.
He knocked into my right hand, and the lovely, lovely drink exploded all over the floor, my shoes, and my pants.
I almost wept, right then and there.
And as a second choice, I almost got down on my knees to lick up the stuff that really wasn't dirty because, HELLO, THREE SECOND RULE, right?
OK, so maybe I was coveting my iced-venti-nonfat-mocha-w/whipped a little too much and God needed to put me down a peg or two.
Only now, having had the bird in the hand and losing it, I'm coveting the one in the bush even more.