I’m having one of those rare yay me kind of days, at least I was. I got up early this morning, despite my lack of sleep due the absence of my husband’s snoring, which is odd since it usually keeps me awake. He’s out-of-state so the bed’s all mine. Well, mine and my dog shadow, Arabella. She doesn’t snore.

I set about cleaning and organizing and dusting. Stuff that makes you feel accomplished and worthy and less like the stay in your PJs, write all day, and let the dust fall where it may self you typically are. Maybe that’s just me though. So, I’m caught up on laundry, dishes are done, floors are swept, blah, blah, blah.

I was kicking cleaning ass and then, BAM! I ran head on into a wall of tired so hard it just about knocked me down. I needed coffee . . . quickly. I still had stuff to do so I set it to brew and hefted a load of towels to the closet. I could smell the coffee, it was divine. The aroma was strong, I could almost feel the energy it was dripping out for me.

I zombie walked my way to the kitchen, when I saw it, a wave of confusion washed over me, then realization. Realization that I’m a part-time ditz and full-time lost cause.

So now I know what happens when you don’t strategically place a receptacle beneath a streaming flow of hot, liquid life nectar. It’s sad.

I have to give a shout out to my beautifully decorative drying mat, talk about absorbency. What could have been a mess of disastrous proportion was reduced to a fairly quick clean-up.

I learned a valuable lesson today, don’t wait too long to make coffee, drink up before you’re too tired to remember the darn cup.