I am having one of those lazy mornings.
You know the kind. Where you're slobbing around in your jammies thinking about what a wonderfully unproductive day you're going to have and suddenly the fire alarm goes off.
So you stand at the door peering through your peephole to see if any of your neighbors are escaping because hey, you don't want to be the only foolish clod standing in the courtyard in your flannels. And when 5 minutes have passed and nobody has left their apartment you decide to put your pants on just in case.
And then the ringing stops just as you do up your zipper and you sigh a sigh of relief.
But of course, now you're dressed. So you can't just do nothing.
So you start a bootie, or two:
And when you're done that pair . . .
You make another pair . . .
And then you excuse yourself from running because your iPod isn't charged. And write a blog post about wasting time.
And realize that it's no longer morning.