Screw You

My life is ever changing and it frustrates me and inspires me - simultaneously. I used to be an early riser mostly due to the fact that my bedtime was 8 pm. Now, I lie in bed counting the puffs of the popcorn ceiling paint (that I detest) it seems better than counting sheep. I just can't seem to picture sheep in my mind but - oh - that popcorn ceiling paint is in my face.

When that doesn't work I do a few laps in the pool and then back inside counting the puffs on my ceiling - and this is difficult in the dark. Still, eyes wide open, sleep is on the other side of the planet. I slide out of bed and head for the computer. I play free cell till I am ready to barf, surf the net and do online surveys. Then, back to the bedroom to stare at the ceiling.

So when the great yellow orb rises in the East - I'm out like the trash. No time for coffee. I slip on a dress and search for panty hose. None. I'm late so I swoosh out the door bare legged and hairy. The dress is rather long so I feel a little safe from prying eyes. Like -who will look at my legs anyways!!!!!!

So, I get to court and drop my stuff in the grey plastic bin to make sure I'm not smuggling in weapons of mass destruction's. The metal detector goes off. I sigh, a little too loud. I pat my chest looking for my name tag with a 1/4 ounce of metal. I have left my name tag somewhere?

I pass through the detector again, walking the straight line that they insist upon. What is this a sobriety test? Off goes that dang (I prefer another word) buzzer. People behind me are getting antsy. Must be they are running late also. The security guard tells me to remove my shoes.

"WHAT?" This is not an airport.

I remove my shoes and there I stand barefooted, bare legged and a bit hairy. I can just imagine the odor my shoes are emitting. Serves them right for making me take my shoes off. Yuck, the floor is cold and dirty. And there I stand for the whole world to gawk at me. I grab my shoes and run barefoot down the hall to the elevator. I am so late again.

I stand inside the crowded elevator (the slow elevator) with shoes in hand, looking a bit disheveled. It bumps slowly to my floor and I slip out and put on my shoes. Why did I wait? Must be sleep deprived. If only my previous sleeping habits would return - life might be easier for me.