Transitioning from summer to fall is — freaking overwhelming — distracting.

I was just answering the phone — long distance; could be important. No, I don’t want a free trip to Cancun. No. I don’t want to give you the account information on my gas/electric/telephone bill. No. I don’t need my ducts cleaned. Oops. Actually, I do. No. I don’t want to talk to you about my banking/insurance needs. I definitely don’t want this conversation recorded for quality assurance/security purposes.

Why doesn’t someone ask me if I’d like a loaded pizza and a cold one? I could get on board with that.

I digress.

I was just answering the phone…

I look down at my feet. I’m wearing a flip flop on the left and a leather mule on the right. You would think I would notice that. What I’m most worried about is how long I’ve actually been walking around with the little piggies tucked in on the right and hanging out on the left.

Somebody Open Channel D. I need the man. The Man From U.N.C.L.E.

Elen