As I sit here at my desk, in my still wet work clothes, I wonder why I bothered to wake up this morning.  Well, not like I had much choice, considering it all started with my cell phone . . .

4:34 a.m. ~ My cell phone wakes me up to tell me it’s battery is nearly dead and needs resuscitated.

4:35 a.m. ~ I stumble downstairs to the card table where I keep all the various and sundry charging cords and transformers coiled.

4:36 a.m. ~ I stumble back upstairs and give my cell phone its juice fix and fall back into bed.

4:52 a.m. ~ Hubby sleep walks upstairs and crawls into bed.

5:00 a.m. ~ My cell phone wakes me up again with my alarm (“I’m Okay” by Styx from the Pieces of Eight album (circa 1978).  I hit the snooze button.

5:10 a.m. ~ “I’m Okay” but not really so snooze again.

5:20 am. ~ Third time trying “I’m Okay” but still not feeling it so snoozing again.

5:24 a.m. – Ready or not, I drag myself out of bed, unplug the cell phone, grab my Nook Color and reading glasses, shoes and clothes and head downstairs.  The Rotts believe me this time and tag along at my heels.

5:30 a.m. ~ Final gasp of “I’m Okay” from my cell phone as I’m getting dressed and this time I hit the OK button to kill the alarm.

5:32 a.m. ~ Feed the Rotts and let them outside.  It’s raining … great, just great.

5:34 a.m. ~ Put paperback, reading glasses, Nook Color and Bluetooth earpiece back in purse.  Grab a reusable grocery bag for an early trip to Dillons.  Let the wet Rotts in, who promptly shake all their accumulated rainwater onto the closest absorbent surface … me.  Great, and getting greater.

5:35 a.m. ~ Grab purse, grocery bag, a set of Bonneville and Firebird keys  and opened garage door on empty bay (north side).  Firebird parked immediately outside with Bonneville behind it.  I get to do the Pontiac shuffle in the rain.

5:36 a.m. ~ Went to passenger side of Firebird to put my purse and grocery bag on the passenger seat.  My hubby had left the window partially rolled down.  Wonderful!

5:37 a.m. ~ Put purse and bag behind driver’s seat.  Went back in garage, grabbed large umbrella, opened it and took trash down down to curb.

5:38 a.m. ~ Rushed back inside to grab the recycling box.  Spent several seconds figuring out how to carry the box (which is large, but not heavy, and requires two hands) and the umbrella.  I managed, but it was touch-and-go there for a bit.

5:39 a.m. ~ Backed Bonneville to other side of Bambi Court and left keys in ignition (but engine off).  Backed Firebird to south side of driveway, noticing the fuel gauge needle was below E.  Good grief, I’d be lucky to make it the two blocks to the convenience store let alone the three miles to Dillons and Hallmark.

5:40 a.m. ~ Parked Bonneville in the garage.  Closed the garage door and ran out under the closing contraption to the Firebird.

5:41 a.m. ~ Made it across Main Street (aka US-73/K-7) to the convenience store and put $19.84 worth of premium gas in the Firebird.  My dollar amounts in gas tend to reflect my mood.

5:45 a.m. ~ Drive to Dillons and wait in the parking lot until they open (at 6:00 a.m.)

6:00 a.m. ~ First one in the door (no surprise there).

6:15 a.m. ~ Self-checkout registered about half of the items I placed in the grocery bag, probably because they were so light.  Consequently, I needed ‘assistance’ from the distracted Dillons personnel to self-checkout.

6:23 a.m. ~ Arrive at Hallmark plant parking lot but there is no van.  Send a text message to the main driver “Where’s the van? Did you already leave without me?”

6:26 a.m. ~ Receive a call from driver to reassure me that the van would arrive shortly.  Our usual van is in for repair or tires.  The backup driver arrives with the van as well as one of the other riders.

6:28 a.m. ~ The rain is coming down in sheets.  While I have my large umbrella with me, it’s behind the front seats of the Firebird, with my purse and grocery bag.  I open the door and step out and within five seconds I am completely soaked to the skin from head to foot.  I quickly grab my purse and bag and run to the passenger side rear door of the van.  It doesn’t automatically open like the usual van so I stand for another few seconds getting even more drenched.  This van has two benches, with no ready access to the rear bench, so I stand there another second or two trying to figure out how to scramble over the front bench.  I give up and crawl across to the driver’s side spot and let the other rider close the panel door.  I can feel the water dripping down my back and legs.  It’s going to be a miserable 45-50 minute ride to work.

6:58 a.m. ~ We pick up a rider in KCK.  She asks me how I’ve been, since I haven’t ridden in the van for  a week.  I reply, “I’m soaked.”

7:10 a.m. ~ At Broadway and 31st street, while waiting for the stoplight, the driver jokingly asks me if I would walk from here.  I said, “I should’ve telecommuted.”

7:20 a.m. ~ Dropped off in front of my building and it’s still raining, but at this point, what’s a bit more water?

I haven’t melted yet, so even if I feel like the Wicked Witch of the West, I’ll try to hunker down in my cube until I feel less like a wet dog and more like a dry and comfortable human being.

Happy Thursday!