So let's say you have plans to meet someone at a nearby Starbucks at 3:45 on an average Thursday afternoon. Let's say this person is actually another blogger who, by all accounts, is quite fabulous. Let's also say that you are pretty much a total shut-in these days and the whole endeavor is pretty much the social event of your week.
(We don't even need to say how pathetically sad you are, because honestly, YOU ARE PATHETICALLY SAD.)
2:00 pm Hey, you know what? I should totally leave now. I'd be all early and relaxed and delicately sipping a non-fat latte that I totally won't spill on the baby when she arrives instead of flying in all hare-brained, disheveled and late like I usually do.
2:03 I could take my impossibly tiny new laptop with me and write a blog entry! Or maybe even a book!
2:04 Oh my God, TOTALLY. I could get at least one, maybe two whole chapters written! I will sit in the plushy chairs by the fireplace and maybe get part of the proposal done too.
2:06 Also should find an agent. Can you find agents on Google?
2:10 Should probably give Noah a bottle first.
2:20 Please don't spit up on me please don't spit up on
2:23 Okay! New shirt! Pretty pink boho shirt! Matches fabulous pink Prada sandals!
2:25 Dilemma: Pants too long for pink Prada sandals. Pants make ass look not huge.
2:26 Kicky espadrille wedges it is!
2:28 Did I shower today? I did shower today. Or am I thinking of yesterday?
2:30 Well, I definitely forgot deodorant this morning, THAT MUCH IS CERTAIN.
2:33 Hair up? Hair down? Hair Up?
2:37 Up. Definitely up. Makeup would be nice too.
2:53 Let's change baby's diaper.
2:54 Poop! Of course. OF COURSE.
2:59 SOMETIMES IN LIFE WE JUST HAVE TO WEAR CLOTHING NOAH AND THIS IS ONE OF THOSE TIMES.
3:05 ALSO I CAN YELL LOUDER THAN YOU AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
3:10 Who the FUCK took all the diapers out of the diaper bag? WHO? Oh right. The pooping.
3:13 Shove diapers burp cloths, bibs, extra outfit, plastic keys ($1.69 replacement keys for exact same 99-cent keys the dog ate, like fucking inflation, man) and plastic measuring cup in bag.
3:15 Walk past mirror. Hair down. Down!
3:16 If I leave right this instant, I will have 15 minutes to spare. I could at least get most of a blog entry done, plus maybe the acknowledgments for a book.
3:17 Hmmm. Sky looks vaguely ominous.
3:18 Will pack that stroller raincover thing we've never used just in case.
3:20 Should I bring umbrella? Logistics of pushing stroller and negotiating umbrella seem daunting. Will grab Coach rainhat instead.
3:22 OUT THE FRONT DOOR OH MY GOD.
3:24 Stroller is in car. Hmmm. What to do with baby while I unload the stroller from the trunk? Access to carseat is blocked by boxes of baby clothes I totally meant to mail to my sister like, three months ago and also office desk lamps.
3:25 After moments of deliberation, decide to stick Noah in drivers seat and buckle the seatbelt around his waist, and holy fuck I am very glad the whole "Internet Rockstar" thing is total petty bullshit, because the paparazzi would be all over my ass for this.
3:29 Stroller is bulky and heavy and arrrgh, it's starting to drizzle. Seriously, if I'm such a fucking rockstar WHERE IS MY PERSONAL ASSISTANT BITCHES?
3:30 ALSO, GROUPIES AND BLOW. I DON'T HAVE THOSE EITHER.
3:32 Pry Noah's jaws off steering wheel, put Noah in stroller, realize you can totally see down my shirt when I bend over.
3:33 Shit. It's totally pouring now.
3:34 Stroller cover! Am world's best mother and trip-to-Starbucks-planner.
3:36 How the hell?
3:38 What the fuck?
3:39 ARRRGGH SUBMIT YOU PLASTIC MONSTER. SUBMIT!
3:40 Huh. That's pretty damn cool. Except...can he...breathe in there? It's like I've just put a plastic grocery bag over his head.
3:41 Put on hat, jacket, start walking confidently down Wisconsin Ave. like the rain isn't bothering me at ALL and I can totally powerwalk 10 blocks in four minutes, are you kidding me?
3:42 Ugh, my hands are already pruny.
3:44 Oh my God. It's the fucking apocalypse.
3:45 A woman, in her mad desire to get around me (I gave up powerwalking about two minutes ago), nails me in the head with her umbrella. Sidewalk rage!
3:45.23 OMG IF U WERE 3 FEET SHORTER U WOULD HAV HIT MY PRESHUS BABIE!
3:46 Stroller cover is impenetrable shield, deflecting all raindrops directly onto me.
3:47 Pink shirt, when wet, has taken on the unfortunate shape of a maternity top.
3:48 Noah and his Impenetrable Shield are very amusing to people, apparently.
3:49 Glance down, realize bra is showing.
3:49.17 Oh God, am one bottle-fed infant away from being Katie Holmes.
3:50 Sun! The sun! Yet it rains on.
3:51 Pants are so wet that my laptop would probably electrocute me.
3:52 SUN. No more rain. At all! In fact...
3:53 SUUUUN. HOT. DYING. HATE.
3:54 Decide to stop and take off jacket and hat, perhaps is time to check that Noah is like, alive and stuff.
3:55 He's asleep, all flopped-over-ragdoll-Sean-Preston-like. Decide to poke him, just in case.
3:55.12 He moved! Well. That's a plus.
3:56 Walk past Metro stop where forty plillion high school students are congregating. Dread fear of roving groups of teenagers second only to volcanoes.
3:57 Catch reflection in store window. Put hat back on. Wow.
3:57.45 DO NOT LOOK TEENAGERS DIRECTLY IN THE EYES. IT CHALLENGES THEM.
3:59 At next walk signal, feel slight tap on arm, turn to see teenage girl. I am going to die now. Girl asks where Metro stop is. I point. She smiles sweetly and says thank you. God, they are so good at pretending to be normal sometimes.
4:01 Am muttering to Noah about disowning him if he ever dares enter puberty while I struggle with door to Starbucks.
4:02 Say hi to Stacy as I fly in, all harebrained, disheveled and surprise! Late.
4:02.30 Leave Noah in the care of total stranger from the Internet whom I just met 30 seconds ago and order a big fucking chocolate frappaccino with whipped cream.
5:00 Leave to go home. Do not dare attempt to write at Starbucks, as it was fucking crawling with teenagers who would probably beat me to death with my laptop, or at least make fun of my stupid hat.
It was a pretty stupid hat.