I’m sitting up rubbing my eyes, yawning and avoiding bed. Why? The pizza. Yes, I said it, pizza. It’s been a long week. Most of them are, but this week there was the added fun of doing 31 report cards in a whole new way, and oh, by the way, I’m still sniffling and not feeling all that super great. Do you see where this is going? Wah, wah, wah. I know. It’s not pretty, this little pity party of mine, and it gets worse.

Lunch was a friend’s belated birthday celebration, Jimmy John’s style. Yum. Then there was that after school meeting where those little tiny Milky Way dark nuggets kept calling my name. Damn them. Add in this morning’s Starbuck’s run and you have a nutritional disaster, so why stop there? When you work from 7:15 am to 6:30 pm with a 30ish minute lunch, you tend to get cranky by the end of the day. Now factor in driving the opposite direction from home to pick up an equally cranky teen, whose first words are, “what’s for dinner?” and you have the perfect storm. Yes folks, I ordered pizza.

It was lovely. It was hot and gooey and had just the right ratio of sauce to toppings. I enjoyed every bite, and there were a lot of bites. UGH. Now it’s late, I’m bloated right down to my fingers and toes, and I dread going to sleep. As the old Alka Seltzer ads used to say, “I can’t believe I ate the whole thing.” Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to plop plop and fizz fizz. Tomorrow is another day, and I will do better.