Slap me silly. I'm having a joyous Saturday morning. The sun's streaming in the bank of skylights angled across my roof. And the squirrel perched on the sill is rhythmically cracking nuts in time with a tap-dancing crow (I'm not making this up).
I woke up Snow White fresh at 7 a.m., leapt off the right side of my bed (and almost dropped seven feet to the floor). Cranked pop music, threw a kerchief on my head, and danced my apartment clean. It's not even 10 a.m. yet, and I've done all my chores and slurped down a healthy fruit shake to boot...
What loco goddess bedazzled this morning with rhinestones?
Huh. Maybe I'm still in bed.
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