This morning, I was a teenager in the summer again: carefree, waking naturally and not by a regimented clock, wandering out to see what was up. Then, I was unkindly slammed right back to that part of high school where the oversleeping thing resided. Checking the morning paper at leisure, I realized this is a Thursday. In two hours, I had an appointment.
I can still do it. I still have it. I can still shower, wash and dry hair, put on an approximate face, and scoot in an hour and fifteen minutes. Okay, an hour and twenty.
But, I never want to have to do it, again . . .