More Hours, Please

Saucytart is a believer.  There really are not enough hours in a day.  She's voting for an additional 8, for a nice wholesome 32. 

See there, Smarty-pants soccer mom in the elementary school office! 

Saucytart can add.  She just couldn't the day you were struggling for naught plus naught and she butted herself right in with the wrong answer.  Yeah, that was months ago, but it's still on her self-absorbed and insecure little sponge cake. 

But back to the original plight, a lack of time to do all that she has to do with her un- and under-employed self. That's right people.  Despite not having a 60-hour plus a week job to race off to importantly each morning before dawn, Saucytart cannot find the time to complete all her appointed rounds.  She has completion issues.  Perhaps it has something to do with staying up until 4 a.m. and rising at noon.  Perhaps not. 

Doesn't matter.  Snudge is away and Saucytart is gleefully entertaining her inner night owl. 

So her day started at exactly noon with Jonathan Schwartz, a cup of joe, and Eggs Maria (her super secret recipe for curing the Sunday morning blues or slight hangover or whatever).  Oh, yes, she did manage to do her workout first.  And now it's keyboard time.

A special shout out to Rob over at Luna Park Gazette.  Ahahaha.  You are one funny dude.  Saucytart enjoyed a solid hour of reading your blog in the wee morning hours after she'd had a similar Brooklyn Museum experience.

Some day she'll recount in lurid detail the morning she practically stole a dread's Starbuck's something-something-something special order tall and then died from mortification, but not before she passed him a forward let's get to know each other over a coffee she didn't steal note.  Um, he declined, causing further mortification.

C'est la vie.  Take a number.