Today I went "marketing." In many parts of the country there is no name for this; it is just how people get errands done, but here in Orange County it is an anomaly to walk anywhere other than to your car. (I am distracted becuase Erik and Ben are recounting obscene scenes from Jackass 2 -- what Jackasses -- the guys, not Erik and Ben). People literally drive their cars across the parking lot to go from Starbucks to the grocery store.
After a stop in the post office, I figured I had time to run into Kmart (a store less than a mile from my house that I rarely ever remember to use) to buy a few things even though it was bordering Silas' lunch time. "Water, meat sticks, dirt, and wipes. Water, meat sticks, dirt, wipes;" I made my way to the store chanting my mantra. About 15 minutes later, I put meat sticks in Silas' hand and wheeled out of the store with two huge bags of potting soil and a box of diapers balanced on the handle bars of the stroller Potting soil, it turns out, is quite heavy, so the entire time I was walking I had to pull up on the handlebar so that there was enough pressure on the front tire. Finally, sweating and with sore arms, I pulled up to 260. As I paused to punch in the gate code , the entire stroller tipped backwards in slow motion -- the diapers and two bags of soil toppling onto the sidewalk, Silas' eyebrows raised to his hairline as he lay on his back strapped into the stroller, and the woman sitting in the car by the curb looked like she had eaten a bird. --sigh-- I gave her a weak smile, righted the stroller with my son in it blinking at me, and lumbered around gathering my scattered, bulky possessions.
That was the beginning of the day. We didn't do much else. I'm not sure how a single hour can make such a difference, but I just haven't been myself since Day Light Savings. It has tripped some invisible circuit in my body so that all I want to do is eat Cheetos and other savory delights and sleep. Despite the blossoms erupting around me, of which there are many, I seem to be gearing up for hibernation. So, the errand running was a real feat.
And now, at 8:45 PM, I think I will go fall into bed, only slightly depressed by my 80-year-old impulse to sleep before 9. Adieu.