1.  Upon waking up, decide the world just isn’t worth venturing out into today.  Hit snooze 5 times.  Cuss yourself out because now you are LATE.  Eat 7 Hershey’s kisses you find in your sock drawer.

2. Get dressed and make it to the kitchen, yelling.  Feed wayward children.  Take youngest ones to bus stops.  Think about children who don’t have money for coats in cold weather.  Or breakfast.  Feel your eyes tear up.  Walk home doing relaxing yogic breathing.  Hum your mantra: Don’t Fixate.

3. Vacillate for 45 minutes about whether to have eggs or oatmeal, while eating Hershey’s kisses.  They take so long to unwrap.  Break down and cry.  Have cold cereal.

4. Put misanthropic tendencies aside to do errands.  Periodically tear up to a poignant song on the radio.  Wipe eyes when going into businesses.  Think that no one else knows you’re a sap- after all, maybe your dog just died or something, and you have a REASON to weep.  Put on stoic face, despite smeary mascara.

5. Snap at strangers who cut in line, cut you off in traffic, generally piss you off (especially the guy who played chicken with my car on Lynnhaven Parkway- uh, in the case of smallish teen delinquent vs. the minivan- you, sir, would lose.  Messily).  Decide Hershey’s kisses should come unwrapped especially for eating while driving.  It’s dangerous to drive and unwrap the foil.  Resolve to email Hershey’s about this.  Today.

6. Call best friend.  Cuss at answering machine while it’s ticking out the message.  Hang up before leaving message.  Call other best friend.  Let her talk.  Listen to her stuff for awhile.  Feel better that you can leave your own shit lie for a little bit to care about another human being.  Decide you are pretty cool that way.  When she interrupts this mental reverie to ask how you’re doing, burst into tears.  Explain you MAY be pms-ing.  Hang up quickly.

7. Notice another driver on a cellphone.  Rant loudly (with closed windows) about how IDIOTIC it is to DRIVE and talk on a CELL PHONE.  Feel superior.  Your cell phone rings.

8. Answer cell phone.  Put it on speaker and in your lap quickly.  Realize you’ve been butt-dialed by friend.  Yell into phone.  After 1 minute, hang up.  Rant loudly (making sure phone is completely hung up and keylock is on) about how DUMB it is to not KEYLOCK YOUR CELL PHONE.  Wonder if you can get your 8-year-old to unwrap a whole package of Hershey’s kisses and put them in a ziploc baggie, without eating too many of them herself.  Maybe she could have one per every 20 she opens.  (This ziploc is for emergency purposes, understand.)

9. Somehow make it through afternoon kid appointments.  Watch a teen girl pace around counselor’s office loudly repeating “I once believed in Humpty Dumpty,” only it sounds like, “UhonebeeleeHUMDUMTY, uh huh.”   As her mother slumps in a chair, periodically imploring her daughter to “Sit down, honey,” or “Find a book for us to look at,” you are a woman divided.  You want to grab the mother and hold her and laugh hysterically at the Universe for this scene (about a dozen others in the waiting room acting like this disruption is either a) not happening or b) normal in this office), and also  grab her and hold her and let her weep with you for the reality of a child locked in her own world, unable to even hear her mother.  You also want to offer the mother a ziploc baggie full of unwrapped Hershey’s kisses.

10. Arrive home.  Eat 25 Hershey’s kisses while helping kids with homework.  Yell at son to stop throwing ball IN THE EFFING HOUSE.  Realize Hershey’s kisses evidence from morning is all over desk.  Quickly scrape too many wrappers into trash bag.  Feed wayward kids.

11. Rush out door to take son to freshman orientation at high school.  Wish you had brought bag of Hershey’s kisses.  Realize you cannot sit through meetings eating one after another pieces of chocolate.  You are NOT in high school.  Wish you’d thought about UNWRAPPING many Hershey’s kisses and stashing them in pockets for meetings.  (They could be cough drops, you know.)

12.  Sit through meetings craving chocolate.  Tell son repeatedly to stop wiggling his leg.  Finally grab his leg with vice-like grip and hiss between clenched teeth, “STOP-MOVING-NOW-OR-YOU-WILL-NOT-LIVE-TO-NINTH-GRADE.”  Smile at teachers and administrators.  Feel your eyes burning.  Wonder if there’s a candy machine nearby?  Wonder why you feel so bloated?

13. Arrive home with tired boy after 2-plus hours of meetings.  Yell at children still awake and watching Spiderman.  Threaten bodily harm if they don’t GO-TO-BED-NOW.  Feel utterly overwhelmed.  Decide you are too tired to even unwrap Hershey’s kisses.  Make hot tea.  Fall asleep on sofa, top jeans button undone.