Something has to be said about my mental state when I’ve been deja-dreaming of the next workday’s tasks for three nights in a row. In these dreams I recall yelling the police’s non-emergency phone number over and over again. Perhaps because IRL, nobody calls me back. Another dream was that I was lost driving around and yelling “press conference!” all over town. This did in fact happen this morning. Then there was the dream where yells were directed at me after the printing of two words. Oi. Lots of dream yelling can’t be good.

Anyway, if that paragraph didn’t fill you in, life’s been a bit more rough than usual with vacations and intern trainings and oil fill-ups and, oh, have I mentioned how nobody calls me back?

When I was getting my minutely Perez update (I’d hook myself up by IV if I could), a part of me felt for Paula Abdul as he slammed her for needing assistants. If this week taught me one thing, it’s that I could use some professional assistance. If my diet alone isn’t proof, then how about the fact that my renewed library books are overdue. Again. You think I would have learned last time. I would return them, but, I bought special Post-It flags to highlight the pages and that would mean facing the mean library lady and forking over cash (not coins, but cash!) to renew. Also, I don’t know if I could find all the books in the time I have before leaving work. And dare I mention that it was my mom who finally returned everything last time? Borrowing from the library isn’t worth it for lazy busy, working professionals.

Maybe Paula’s got it right.

Okay, maybe not about the jerk thing. Or about the gobbling of meds. But definitely excusable, nay, it’s imperative that she have hired help.

So I hear farthings are worth about a quarter … of a penny. Any takers?