So today has so far been a pretty good day, with the exception of me leaving the house in sloppy yoga pants and some crappy t-shirt because I just so not ready to be wide awake and presentable at 7 in the morning. I dropped off the kids, paid some bills, hit up Starbucks (Oh sweet heavenly mercy, how I've missed my Starbucks) and came home to do some blogging, procrastinating and napping before going to my preceptor midwife's office for the afternoon. Just as I settled into the couch with my laptop my phone chimes and it's a text from my Preceptor saying she won't make it into the office today, and she will see me tomorrow. Well damn it. Now what the fuck am I supposed to do with all this productive energy? I mean, I'm jacked full of a double shot Espresso and enough sugar to kill a grizzly bear, and it's 10 am, so I probably won't be able to go back to bed, and I just don't understand what the fuck this day will amount to now?! Ahhhhh. So I emailed the Roomie, and asked him what I should be doing with my life for the next several hours. He answered "Clean the car? The house? Do some laundry?" After I got done crying from laughing so hard, I promptly replied "No. And fuck you just for saying that." And sent him a computer virus. Dick.
There isn't really anything good on Netflix right now, so I think I will just shower, eat the rest of my PMS candy stash and go driving aimlessly around until I find a dollar store to blow a bunch of money in, or think of someone's house I want to TP. I had a list of names, but I don't know where it went.
If you need me I will be sugar crashing around 2 p.m. so try to catch me before that.