Feast After Famine: I Won the Lottery

The insufferable morning actually started last night when I tapped away at the computer—completely wired and unable to wind down—as the clock crept closer to midnight. 

I hit the snooze button today at 6:45 a.m. and cursed the dark and Daylight Saving Time for robbing me of an extra hour of sleep. Shortly after, the howling started. Like me, Josephine did not take to the time change. She didn't like the cereal, refused oatmeal, screamed about yogurt. She sat at the table with no food and thrashed and moaned as giant tears streaked her cheeks. Meanwhile, I thanked heaven for the whir of the blender which drowned her wailing for a blessed five minutes. 

"I can't hear you!" 

Remarkably, she sustained the whining through the bowl of yogurt she eventually conceded to eat, with her mouth full of toothpaste, beneath the shirt she pulled over her head. On and on and on until I wished her good day at the preschool door. 

Then I came home and remembered that Kent and I are celebrating our 12th wedding anniversary this weekend with a night at the Willard. And the Verizon guys finally removed a useless and unsightly wire that hung over our back yard and irritated me for five years. And then, and then... I got word that after several years of trying, I scored tickets to the White House Easter Egg Roll. 

One complication, though. I entered the lottery for the tickets a few weeks back and unlike in years past, this year I didn't sign up to take all of the kids. I ticked the one adult, one child box. The event falls on a Monday and I figured I'd take Tobias since the other three would be in school. And frankly, I've always heard how nightmarishly crowded the event can get so I didn't really want to take all four. It wasn't until I got the email today that I realized the Egg Roll is on Easter Monday—when everyone is out of school. 

Do I put the kids' names in a hat and pick who gets to go? Or do I stick with my original plan to take Tobias?

Either way, there's no denying this day picked itself right up off the stinking floor. Daylight Saving Time doesn't suck as hard as I thought. 

Dana blogs at Feast After Famine.