I am way too tired to write a blog post today.
What’s that? You need proof?
Oh, I will give you proof.
Naturally, I still have to teach a Turbo Kick class tonight, then come home and pack for our trip.
That’s right, another trip. Scott and I are flying to San Diego tomorrow. Being that our flight is at 9:00 am we must rise at 4:00 and be out the door by 5:00. In the morning. This right here? This is what life looks like when you live hundreds of miles from the nearest airport.
Is it completely sad and pathetic that I’m really looking forward to at least hitting up McDonald’s on our drive down for one of those McGriddle pancake heart attack sandwich things?
Wait. On second thought, please don’t answer that.
Also? For some strange reason, I volunteered to bake four loaves of zucchini bread before our departure.
After making the zucchini bread early this morning (which turned out beautifully, by the way) Jolie promptly decided to step in it.
Fast forward five minutes, and you’ll see me, taking my zucchini-bread-ruining dog outside, completely oblivious to the fact that a brand new loaf of marbled mocha breakfast bread is melting on top of my hot, glass stovetop. Plastic bag and all.
Moments later, my iPhone breaks.
There also happens to be a large, mysterious scab on my chest. I have absolutely no idea how it got there, but it keeps falling off in the shower. (So much for all the low-cut tanks I specifically purchased for this trip to California.)
Did I mention we somehow forgot to book a hotel in San Diego?
Basically…I need a drink. A very stiff drink. Yet I’m afraid to mix alcohol with extreme exhaustion as it will undoubtedly end with me forgetting to pack toothpaste and underwear for California. And lets be honest, nothing is worse than going commando while simultaneously having really bad breath.
Aside from going commando, having really bad breath and NOT EVEN HAVING A HOTEL TO STAY IN!
In other words, there is no post today. I send you my sincerest apologies.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go eat a disgusting amount of ruined zucchini bread and cry while packing my underwear and toothpaste.
But I’m not giving up hope. I will make it to tomorrow morning, and will get my beloved McGriddle sausage cheese and cellulite sandwich.
Not to mention making it to San Diego and starting in on this whole vacation thing.
But really? Right at this moment? It’s pretty much exclusively about that sandwich.