UNDER THE MICROSCOPE

NEW SPECIMENS OLD SPECIMENS THE SCIENTIST MY LOG CONTACT ME
2003-11-19 - 6:49 p.m.

NOT PRETTY

Today was not pretty. In fact, it was downright UGLY. I will save you from the play-by-play and skip straight to the sweeps news teaser. Hormonally-challenged, overtired, non-morning person mother encounters hormonally-challenged, overtired, morning person 13 year old girl. Luckily no film at 11 or any other hour.

Having skipped right over the details of the little fiasco that began my day, we�ll move on to the weird. Yes, once again, I put on two different shoes but this time they were not different colors. They actually were different shoes. On the walk from the car to the office, I realized that I was limping. Then I realized that my feet did not hurt. Slowly, it dawned on me that my shoes were not quite the same height. Oh, yes, and my back was starting to hurt. I called Mr. Philately. Sweet soul that he is, he brought a shoe to my office on his way into work�and he didn�t even last. It�s a sad day when one of the best parts is that your husband did not laugh when you asked him to help you in your footware hour of need.

By the time my boss got to work, I had matching shoes. By then, however, I had lost my dignity. I was rolling around on the floor, back in the corner of the conference room, trying to plug in my videocamera and cabling it to the VCR. I had to take some tape my investigator recorded for me yesterday of me torturing a client. (Actually, I was trying to demonstrate his incompetence in the least stressful way possible but it felt like torturing him.) I got the cables hooked up, ran the 8mm tape, and recorded onto VHS�or so I thought. I had skipped one small step. I had skipped the tiniest, eensy-weensiest, little step. I forgot to put the VHS tape in the VCR. Twenty minutes wasted. Sigh.

Recognizing that my horoscope must say that today was not a safe day for working on new or important projects (although I had to surmise it because I rarely read the things), I worked on little tasks and managed to avoid additional problems all the way until I took Day-Hay to middle school play practice. It was then, when she got up on the stage to run through her part as the Oz farmer, that I realized. She STILL did not have her contacts in, the ones she wears for medical reasons.

And now I have no choice. The day will end with a tired, hormonally-challenged mother having it out yet again with a tired, hormonally-challenged 13 year old over a pair of contacts.

Aren�t you glad you aren�t at my house tonight?

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