Still dead

You know how you really mean to get to the gym and work out, except life is so rushed that you never go?

Well, not only do I not have time to go to the gym, I don't have time to call my marriage counselors in India and learn how to make poppadums get the wireless DSL working.

I have to buy a sleeping bag for my daughter to take to a bithday sleepover because we can't find the ones I know we had a couple of years ago. And a birthday present for her to take. And buy something frozen for the babysitter to microwave for my son for dinner. And make sure the white shirt/tie/black pants are ready for my son to wear to a music competition tomorrow. And drive downtown and open the apartment for my sister-in-law. And get dressed for a black-tie event tonight. And hope my husband gets back from Delaware or D.C. or wherever he is at the moment in time to meet us there.

So I'm in the public library checking my email for the first time in three days and finding all kinds of last-minute shit about the music competition and the black-tie benefit and so on.

Just so you know, my middle initial is S. Which at the moment stands for "Stresseating."