i've had the time of my life

thanks for all the input, my friends. i plan to utilize your top picks. all in one day. not the first day, necessarily. maybe the second. i think i'll start by dropping the kids off. no lingering. hiding. lurking outside the classroom nor the parking lot. i'll drop and go. i'll go right to soco (trendyhipsterwhilepretendingtokeepitweird shopping and eating area) for some shopping and let us not forget the cupcakes. scrap that. i'll walk to soco as a way to incorporate exercise into my day, thus enjoying my michael jackson cupcake (chocolate with cream cheese frosting) a little bit more. then off to a haircut, pedicure, and massage. how much time is left? 10 minutes? i'll ask them to play jonas brothers during my haircut and will sniff someone's clove cigarette waiting in line for the mj cupcake. my grocery shopping might be picking up the US weekly which i will read at the red lights enroute to procuring the kids. but what kind of luxury is it to "pop in" to a grocery store? or anywhere else for that matter? there is no "popping in" for me. ever. i'll spend 30 seconds in the grocery store and not think for a moment about the usual time and energy-intensive mount and dismount involved in my outings. oh what about the cleaning? i totally blamed my unassuming innocent spouse for that one vote for heading home to clean the house. he probably didn't do it. he maybe said exercise. i will never know for sure. he might have said both. exercise and go home and clean the house. maybe threw in publishing the dissertation for future thought of a future dual income (may you rest in peace. oh how we miss you). oh that damn dissertation. i forgot to throw that into my perfect day up there. blast. by the time i publish it, it will be like explaining to current communication majors (true story) how i took a class, audio production, and learned how to splice audio tape. actual audio tape. splice it. with an exacto knife. hello it was the nineties! mid-nineties thankyouverymuch. anyway. once i arrive to pick up the kids from their four hours of so-much-fun-that-they-hear-the-theme-song-from-dirty-dancing, C holds R by her hips and hoists her over his head, R posing in a delicate swan-like posture while their classmates enthusiastically clap, even cry. mine won't cry though. only the other kids. mine will just be good dancers. and they won't cry when i drop them off either. i'm putting it into the atmosphere so it becomes reality. thanks.

not my actual children. yet.