I stayed up too late last night. When I finally crawled into bed,
three hours remained before my morning would begin. I closed my eyes, blocked
out Aaron's raucous snores and drifted into an incredibly lively dream
world--only to be jolted wide-awake one hour later. Hail is noisier than Aaron's
snores.
The long-winded hailstorm stole another hour of sleep and I dozed
until my alarm scared the crap out of me at 5:00 a.m. Wearily I got ready,
chauffeured Alex and Natalie to seminary, drove through lightly falling snow to
the deserted grocery store (my preferred shopping time), picked up necessary
edibles (which means half the store because I have teenagers), and went to my
7:00 meeting.
At this point I must confess that I have no recollection of the
business transacted at said meeting. I'm hoping nothing was assigned to me. I'm
fairly certain I made up at least twelve four-syllable words, used them with
alacrity, and glared disparagingly at anyone who looked the least bit confused
by my speech. I'm hoping none of the imaginary words rolled easily off the
tongue. I have one colleague who uses such words simply because he likes to say
them, but never has any idea if his usage is correct, nor does he seem to care.
And I'd prefer to have my fanciful solecism forgotten forthwith.
I believe I attended and participated in (at least in the
corporeal sense) two or three rehearsals and lunch meeting. All recollection of
these events is spotty, at best. I returned home, spent one hour playing
Solitaire (yup, got lots of work done in that hour), then taught piano lessons
for the remainder of the evening. Naturally, the lessons went well, as I am an
amazing teacher and can mesmerize any student with my prowess, even if I catnap
during the lessons--which I did not.
In spite of the zombie-esque feeling
which led me through this day, somewhere between lessons and 6:00 p.m., I made
delicious chicken noodle soup with hot bread for dinner. It is immaterial
whether I remember making it or not. Clearly, cooking is something which
requires no conscious thought. Also, a rather lovely chocolate cake appeared
later. I remember telling an online chat friend that I was making one. I do not
recall actually making it. Regardless, it tasted very nice.
The obnoxious plethora of imaginary but most creative words,
followed me throughout the day. It's a mercy that tomorrow I will remember none
of them, and should anyone remind me, I will simply fix that person with my
haughty, super-heroine I-can't-believe-you-would-even-consider-such-trumpery
gaze, and the accusation will be immediately forgotten. And if that doesn't
work, I plan to look confused and be a little embarrassed for the person who is
so obviously mistaken in their memory of our conversation.
In the meantime, if I said the word phenolanolin in a previous conversation with
you--don't look it up. It's not a word. It means nothing. And it's definitely
not the chemical in turkey which makes you feel sleepy, nor is it a hormone
produced by the thyroid which regulates growth.
And now I believe I will go get a drink of water.
