Checklist

Open my eyes to a new day on a less-than-stellar night's sleep.  Check.

Get dressed; brush teeth; update Facebook via iPhone; rub Burt's Bees coconut foot rub on feet; open all blinds and shades. Check.

Husband's oatmeal; feed bottomless pit of a cat; drop off kids at school for dad because he must leave early for work today; whiz from one drugstore to the next hoping to find an open pharmacy at 8AM in order to rectify the absence of Claritin-D from my husband's collection of allergy-fighting remedies after neglecting to hunt it down for the last two days and thus brought about the reluctant ingestion of 2 Benadryl capsules which left him loopy and barely functioning by morning but somehow blocked him from sleep until well after midnight -- he did not make it to work early.  CHECK.

Cram a Wasa cracker with almond butter down my gullet in order to ingest my own allergy meds; toss a load of laundry in the washer; call youngest brother and see how his night passed at the intake ward of the state psychiatric hospital after it went fully co-ed yesterday . . . he was exceptionally chipper and lighthearted as he spoke of the willowy doe-eyed young gal who decided to latch onto him for company and advice; quickly clean face with Oil of Olay wipe and smear sunscreen on face, neck, ears and chest; slip in blue crystal studs to match my shorts and socks (?!); guzzle another glass of H2O as I grab dog leash, poop bag, check for house key, and meet neighbor for walk as I quickly pick Bermuda grass from flower bed.  Check.

Dog gets her mile in; back home to feed her and utilize the facilities; grab more water; reconnect w/ neighbor for 2 miles more after eating her garden strawberries; discuss my blog of  the day before about the man in China watching the long bridge for suicide attempts; take flower-of-the-day pic for Facebook update; wonder about possibility of our own road trip to gather iris rhizomes from her grandma in Florida; solve all family and world problems for the umpteen time in our friendship of six years; part for the day; push-ups.  Check.

Boil eggs for salad; sort mail and recycle; buy online plane ticket for son; text and call childhood best friend several times about said ticket and impending trip to her house in Wyoming; help mother-in-law procure a ride to Wyoming to meet us; push-ups; order personal tape player online for baby brother; check Facebook and e-mail; hang up on two junk calls; prepare salad; run upstairs to locate box for my grandma's 90th birthday present; give up on coaxing greedy cat from storage room; rotate laundry; think about eating; take call from mother-in-law while texting daughter and husband and friend-in-need in New Mexico; welcome eldest child home for late lunch; inhale my salad along with seven whole-grain pretzels dipped in yogurt with flaxmeal; drink water; take calcium supplement; good-bye to daughter; check TV for background noise program; push-ups; opt for new podcast on iPhone while packaging present for mail; grab brother's sunglasses to mail to social worker at hospital.  Check.

Post office; bank; local bakery for sample of brown bread with butter and honey; pick up kids from school; briefly chastise son for breach of permission protocol; jaunt to Starbucks for 1/2-Off Frappuccino day for all; advise mom by phone as to connection for her keyboard; deliver Frap to working daughter; return home with grumpy teen girl, ebulliently effusive teen boy, grinning friend of teen boy; drink water; boss boy before allowing him to go play elsewhere; push-ups; ponder dinner as pizza night is tomorrow; decide to write blog first; update Facebook; load of laundry.  Check.

Now, off to make dinner knowing I'm pushing the clock; drink water; ensure kids leave for youth; shower; appointment for trim of floofy short new do; return home to eat dinner and hang with weary but non-sneezy, dry-sinuses husband; shop for ever-growing pile of graduation cards; laundry; push-ups; glass of water; kids return from church youth; fuzzy area of evening activity; Facebook update; call to brother; few rounds of iPhone app Scrabble; toilette; possibly bedtime.  Check.

Create a written record of my daily events as I can never recall them when harried husband queries after the events of my day and I respond in similar harried manner that I wish he could read my mind.  He can just read my blog.  (I do use the restroom but thought I'd save space.)  CHECK.