Pieces of the Week
Thursday, Oct. 21, 2004, 11:59 p.m.

QUESTION: Where does the week go?

WHAT I LEARNED: Carry on.

The ordinary week � where does it go? From where I stand it goes to ordinary happenings, a few extraordinary moments, and a dash of those abysmal moments in life when you realize all the things you are doing wrong or saying when you should say but it's just an instant too late to undo or unsay them. This week was filled up with just such a composite of things. And really it is like many other weeks in my life.

This week I took taxicab rides � two with pumped in public radio broadcasts a-blasting. I went to one breakfast program and one evening professional association function in the same day � making for a day that required everyready bunny batteries. I got lost after dropping a coworker off after the association function � driving in circles in the rain and the dark until I just turned off onto a random street with the hope that all roads lead to Rome, which in this case seemed to be the case. I drove to work on fumes this morning and halfway back home again on hope. I was running late twice this week for important meetings � just squeaking in under the wire each time � once, thanks to the public-radio-listening taxicab driver and once thanks to a lucky run of green lights.

This week a cashier at the happy meal restaurant made me unhappy by giving me back the wrong amount of change � I got my $5 back plus a pumpkin pie. This week I actually got called by a political pollster � I�m a current poll statistic! This week one kid brought home a B+ on a history exam and one kid forgot their lunch money. This week we ordered school pictures. This week we talked about learner's permits and an interim report card that looked remarkably good - thanks in no small part to the desire embedded in every 15-year old's heart to attain that coveted learner's permit. Finally, tonight the sound of baseball games on the television has finally ceased to echo through every minute of the evening as it has all week long. The house is quiet.

That�s because it�s late � again. Every night I try to go to bed by 11 PM and every night I am up until 1 AM. Every morning I hate myself for not going to bed at 11. Every morning I swear I�ll get to bed earlier from now on. Oops, I did it again.

This week I chewed out my kids for not picking up and for indulging in sibling arguments that make me long for a set of earplugs, drank one good cup of coffee everyday, wore my brand new shoes to work without getting new-shoe blisters, starting carrying around my recently acquired orange handbag just because it�s autumn and the leaves are beginning to turn color, thought about getting a Chihuahua even though I have allergies, got invited to a super-duper home shopping party by an enterprising friend, got treated to dinner, made two home-cooked meals instead of my usual zero home-cooked meals per week with some help from my son and some encouragement by my daughter, purchased a container of pumpkin soup, and wrote this diary entry.

And it�s only Thursday.

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