What a muddle I have in my head. A million-and-one trivial little thoughts, darting around in there, making one huge muddy muddle.

Tomorrow:

Sign J up for dance class and pay June tuition. Don't forget the sunscreen permission form.

Ponder the crossword puzzle if I get a seat on the bus. Pretend like I'm filling in blanks when really I'm totally stumped.

Coooooofffffffeeeeeee.

Yum, there's a cranberry orange muffin waiting for me in the fridge. BRIGHT SPOT!

Finalize and distribute list of May liquidation notices.

Call fired managers to ask when they'll be sending our money. Always a good time, that.

Redesign custom tabs for database & show them to my boss.

Continue working on written procedures.

Lunch hour at gym.

Drink some water, for pete's sake!

Try not to think about two painful spots that want to grow into giant ugly, um, "blemishes." Or, perhaps, tulips. Not sure which.

Try not to worry about the dependent-care reimbursement check that never arrived.

Go to the bank and deposit the dependent-care reimbursement check that did arrive.

Return ouch-inducing black sandals to Filene's Basement.

Figure out what to eat for the next few days.

See therapist.

Buy some groceries. Remember the Brillo pads and the Chocolove.

Eat something.

Look at the new "New Yorker." I love how it always arrives on Tuesday.

Sleep.

In spite of myself, I keep thinking about the little house of my dreams. The backyard, the quiet neighborhood street, the table on the patio where we eat dinner. The Mexican tiles, for cryin' out loud! I can picture it and I can picture us there, but I can't picture how to get there.

I'm afraid that if I give up what I'll have to give up in order to get the little house, I'll go utterly mad long before I've accumulated the down payment. I'm not sure the dream of the house is enough to sustain me.

Also, where is this house? Um, Skokie? Ergh.

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