From a previous week...

I was so organized today. I woke up, drank my coffee while reading the most recent publication of The Week, picked up Aasta's room, cleaned the kitchen, went out to the garden and turned some soil, took Aasta for a ride in her wagon, and prepared to run errands before heading out of town. And all of this by 9:30 AM. It's mornings like this that inevitably mean I'm in for a profound reminder that I'm never this productive.

After packing Aasta's diaper bag with the usual, extra clothes, diapers, wipes, snacks and a drink I zipped up the bag and set it by the door waiting for my departure. Then I got Aasta dressed. The timing would be perfect I would get loaded up, get in the car, and get to Costco with just enough time to pick up my groceries and get home to meet the gentleman giving me an estimate on some hair-brained home improvement ideas. After making the final touches on my shopping list I tucked it into my pocket and went to grab Aasta to take her to the car. Enter stage left, colossal poop.

Deep breath, change diaper and pants, take toxic waste to outside garbage pail and check! I'm ready. I walk back into the house, grab Aasta and load the car. I'm a few minutes behind now but I can make up the time with a super quick run through Costco. I get in the car, take a deep breath so as not to run over any small ladies or even smaller dogs while backing out of my driveway. I turn on NPR which guarantees Aasta won't fall asleep so I can time her nap perfectly, of course. I arrive at Costco feeling quite proud of myself, take Aasta out of the car seat, load her into the shopping cart and head toward the entrance. As I'm about to walk through the front door (where they inanely check your Costco card even though you can't buy anything without one. A personal pet peeve of mine thanks to my neighbor Ole) I stop cold. I forgot Aasta's diaper bag on the buffet in the front hall which wouldn't be a big deal if it didn't also contain my wallet. What calm I've been able to manufacture is now quickly deteriorating into sheer and utter rage.

I turn the cart around, walk back to the car, load Aasta back into the car, back the car out (still aware of my surroundings though becoming decidedly less concerned about little dogs) and head back home. In my frustration I turn on a CD to calm myself and within two minutes Aasta has fallen asleep in the back seat. So now I'm home. It's only 11 and I've resorted to eating chocolate covered pretzel's and drinking the remaining pot of coffee while Aasta finishes what is sure to be a painfully short nap.

Like I said, I'm never that productive.


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