*Yawn*

Who needs to make up stuff to write? You know how some days things just don't go right?

First of all, I knew it was a teaching day for me. For those of you new to my journal, I volunteer teach basic computer classes to senior citizens. All goes well, as long as I pretend to be a saint. The patience is needed. However, I was thinking of the time I go to physical therapy, not class time. Woops - I needed to be there at 9 am, not 10 am. I woke up at 8:15 am.

I woke up wondering where I keep my car. I was dreaming I lived in an apartment in a large city, and had to park my car on a street all the time. But when I woke up, half asleep still, I couldn't remember where I actually do keep my car. Then I couldn't remember the word for it. Eventually "garage" popped into my head, and I decided I better get moving.

Over my bed is a window. It's like a headboard. If the window is open and it's raining, my hair gets wet during the night. I can't read in bed or I would fall out the screen. I like the window right there, but there are some drawbacks on occasion. I stuck my arms straight up and back to stretch my shoulders, which drew my head back also. I bonked my forehead on the window ledge. OK, that woke me up. I got up and headed for the bathroom, where there is a mirror, so I could see if I was expecting a bruise on my forehead.

You ever feel a need to have people to talk to? Get a bruise or put a bandaid on your forehead. It works every time.

So I hit the bathroom, which also has a fairly large window. After checking the mirror, I turn around and look out the window. It looked very pretty out this morning. Luckily, I didn't see anyone outside. I forgot that I wasn't dressed yet, and here it was only 8:15 am and I had already flashed the neighborhood. (I usually close the window as soon as I go in the bathroom in the mornings, but I forgot because I was in a hurry. The window is frosted.)

So it has to get better from there, right? I went downstairs, let the dogs out, let them in, and fed them. I checked my email, and then got up to get my jeans off the top of the washing machine where I had left them to dry last night.

As I was walking to the laundry room, I noticed a smell. Sure enough, Baby, my younger beagle, had dropped a few turnds on the throw rug. She doesn't like to get her feet wet, and the grass was still wet from yesterday's thunderstorms. OK, that is allowed. I taught them they could go on that throw rug if I am gone. I used to work some long freaking hours, so they needed a backup plan when I was late.

The jeans were, of course, still wet. This summer I seem to have been transported to Florida. I live in Michigan, but it has been very swampy and hot this summer. I love it, no complaints. But I wanted to let the jeans air dry, since I had recently made a bad judgment call and thrown a new pair of white cotton capris into hot water and the dryer.

Due to the smell, I grabbed a can of Lysol and sprayed the laundry room. I hadn't moved the jeans, so now they smell like Lysol.

I stuffed myself into another pair of white capris that I hadn't shrunk yet and put on a light yellow top and went to school.

Class starts at 9:30. I got there at 9:10, and reminded one of my 80-year-old male students that he had 20 minutes to sit and watch the ladies in the water aerobics class (the classes are all in the community center) and then he needed to show up for the computer class. He smiled, leaned on his cane, and obviously was having non-aerobic thoughts about the ladies in the pool.

By 10:10, I dribbled a little diet soda on my shirt.

Class ends at 11:30, in theory. However, no one seems to ask a question until 11:25. I left at 11:40 in a hurry, since I needed to get to the other side of town for lunch. As I was rushing in the car, my phone rang. My lunch partner told me she couldn't get on the freeway from two different entrances as they were closed, and she was having a bad morning and was sorry, but she would be late.

Lunch conversation was therapeutic, for both of us. At least she didn't mention my forehead.