Having a Day.

It's 8:59 and I'm having a day.

It started so long ago.
I've rushed around here, I've rushed around there.
I've barely had time to wash my frizzy hair.

It's 8:59 and I'm having a day.
I'm exhausted, burnt out, spent.
Forgot to call the dentist, forgot to run the dishwasher.
Forgot to feed the gerbil or water the plants.

It's 8:59 and I'm having a day.
The papers on my desk have spilled onto the floor.
The clutter in the closet has crept out.
There's schoolwork to be graded and attendance to be logged,
And our houseguest for the week is a stomach-sick dog.

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And cut. I started that on Friday night. Got interrupted by a Little Guy who had been nicely tucked into bed who later decided "My still hungry Mommy. Mommy, my still hungry. My playing with doggy and my forgot my ice cream."

And the doggie isn't stomach sick anymore. She's just fine.

And the weekend was great.

So basically my little pity party poem doesn't apply anymore. But I'm posting it anyway.

Because I'm good enough, I'm smart enough, and doggone it, people like me.