Saturday, May 19, 2007

Look at the time. I am almost finished with PTA silent auction sign-making duties, but cannot go to bed for fear the printer will start convulsing or shut down or otherwise destroy all of my hard, crazy work. So I write. But this is not really writing; it's typing words in a fugue state. I will not likely remember any of this tomorrow as I deliver my daughter to her Young Author's Conference before canvassing the town garage sales with my mom. I will only have an overwhelming desire to lie down on a cool sidewalk and sleep, perhaps dream about the yelps of praise I will hear when everyone beholds my awesome bid sheets.

There is something quite wrong with me.

1 comment:

Lisa Wheeler Milton said...

Dear lord. You were up to the wee hours, poor child. And you have company today. All I want to do is roll out the cool sidewalk, or better yet, something soft and cozy so you can pass out.

I hope Sunday is light and fluffy, with little obligation.

Happy shopping! See you tonight.


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