Last night, I had a phone conference with my esteemed colleauges in Japan and Singapore. Just out of curiosity, if WE are the global headquarters, why is my ass at work for a call until midnight?! Fucking time zones.
At any rate, I went home, snarfed down some cereal and fell into bed. I did not, as per my usual, pack a lunch. Or set out clothes. Or ready the coffee pot (which died on me the other day. *sob* Oh, faithful friend, how I miss thee.)
I'm just now getting around to eating the lunch I packed this morning. Wow. No wonder I do this sort of thing the evening before. I have 3 apples and 3 string cheese things in there. Apparently this morning, I just circled helplessly from the fridge to the lunch bag and back for a while. *headshake* Alrighty then.
I did only grab one granola bar. But here's the thing. I've been buying the same brand and the same flavor of granola bar for YEARS. [yes, I enjoy my rut - thankyouverymuch] I vaguely remember having to fumble around with a new box this morning, but until I pulled the thing out of the bag a minute ago, I didn't notice that it is totally the wrong size. And brand. And flavor. So instead of my yummy chewy granola bar, I have 2 bars of strangely flavored rock which are crumbling to dust in my keyboard as I speak. Um, type. How the hell did I end up with these things? I must have been unconscious in the store too.
More terrifying is the thought that I AM turning into my mother - she's renowned for going to the store and coming back with the wrong thing (ie going for sour cream, coming back with french onion chip dip, that sort of thing). I'm so doomed.