It's barely 8 am

and I've already managed to embarass myself senseless.

Anyone who knows me, or even knows the tiniest thing about me, knows that I don't do mornings. Now, because the rest of the world seems to think that 7:00 am is a perfectly reasonable time to do things, I've had to adapt. But I don't like it, and I stretch out my sleep as much as possible (read "punch the snooze alarm several times and race out the door at the last minute"). Once upon a time, I actually got up and got ready for my day BEFORE I took the Jr. High kids at 7:20. Then I came back to myself. Now, I roll out of bed around 7:19, throw on some pajama pants, a sweatshirt, and slippers, and off we go.

(Yes, I've heard all the advice that I should get up early, get a better start to my day so I'm not running around like a crazy person, blah, blah, blah. People who say that are morning people so, of course, that makes perfect sense in their warped morning-people brains. The sane among us, the night owls, know better).

In spite of all of that, I pride myself on never going out in public without being dressed. I don't go anywhere in public in my pajama pants. Ever. I don't go out in public without at least a little make up on, and I'm usually dressed in something more than just a t-shirt or sweatshirt. It's just one of my "things."

The van needs to have it's inspections done so we can get new registration stickers for it. We opted to do that today. Bruce stayed home from work this morning to take the kids to school and then take me to the mechanic. Well, as we left to take the Jr. High kids, I thought I was supposed to go to the mechanic and he'd meet me there after taking the kids. I also thought it'd be a quick trip, so I wasn't dressed.

I drove over to the mechanic and the gate was closed. I pulled over and waited. When Bruce got there, I asked him what time they opened. 8:00 am. So what the heck am I doing here at 7:35?! Um, well, it seems we had a bit of a communication issue. He assumed that I knew they didn't open until 8:00, so when he saw me pull out of the driveway, he thought I was okay to wait or something. Who knows what goes through his head? Instead of calling me to ask me what I was doing, he assumed he knew. I assumed that he needed to get to work ASAP, so I was trying to get this all taken care of as quickly as possible.

So we're sitting on the side of the road, waiting for the place to open. But really, this is ridiculous. Alana didn't have her coat or her backpack, and I have things to do today, darn it. And really, had I known that I didn't have to be there until 8, there's a good possibility I'd have still been in bed! We decided I'd take the Pilot home and get Alana's things, then meet back at the mechanic. I get out of the van with Alana and then, because cars are coming, I can't just hop into the Pilot.

That's right. I wound up standing in the street, next to the Pilot, waiting for all these cars to pass so it's safe to open the door......IN MY PAJAMA PANTS AND SLIPPERS! The last car to pass me? A police car. Mortifying, I tell ya.

Alana and I came home, and I put on some real clothes. Or at least real pants and shoes.

On the upside, I've already started laundry.