Portrait of a Monday Morning

This morning, all before 8:35, I:

 -- rolled myself out of bed after hitting the snooze button only once, vowing never again to stay up past 9 PM

 -- pulled on several layers worth of workout clothes and tied my shoes with only one eye half open

 -- assessed status of clothes that were put in the dryer to "dry" last night.... and restarted the dryer for another cycle

 -- sprinted down to the gym in approximately 20 degree weather, dodging icy patches on the sidewalk with moderate success

 -- busted my you-know-what on the elliptical for 30 minutes, burning either 455 calories (according to the machine) or something approaching 250 (a much more likely reality)

 -- cranked out 100 situps and 3 full minutes of planking (the kind where your abs feel like they might be on fire, not the weird/dangerous hanging-off-a-balcony trend)

 -- sprinted back home in approximately 21 degree weather (the sun was starting to come up, which I figure must mean something, even though it felt just as cold)

 -- allowed my fingers and nose a few minutes to thaw out

 -- located, measured, and dumped several ingredients into the crockpot

 -- crossed my fingers that said ingredients in the crockpot would yield an edible meal in 10 hours

 -- rolled my never-to-be-confused-with-a-morning-person hubby out of bed

 -- showered, dressed, put on makeup, tracked down matching earrings, dug out heels from under a pile of laundry, changed my mind and switched shirts, realized that said switch also necessitated a change in scarf color, located the correct scarf (3 rooms and one bathroom later), and tripped over the cat no less than 4 times in the process

 -- made myself a cup of coffee, packed muffins for breakfast

 -- looked at the clock and choked, coaxed my husband into agreeing to bring me lunch since there was no time to even think about what I might be able to take for lunch other than more muffins (which wasn't an entirely terrible thought)

 -- found a pair of matching gloves with surprising speed

 -- scraped the windshield of my husband's truck while he sat inside, toasty, grumbling about how warm he would be if he were still in bed

 -- flew into work only five minutes late, making it to my desk just in time to grab the first of what is sure to be dozens of phone calls today

All of this to say... would someone kindly let me know when it's time for my nap?

   Love,

    Meg