It's 1:29 a.m. Do you know where your phone is? I don't. And I kind of need it. It's my alarm clock and the only way I can call my mom and tell her that I booked the wrong flight for my sister and that it's going to cost three times what I make in a week to get it changed so she can come to my Bridal Shower this weekend. It's also the only way I can call my loving fiancé and inform him of my gargantuan meltdown. My brain has too much going on to remember to click the right bubble for the later flight and to remember the juice stopper in my nannykid's cup and to comprehend the material for the psych test I tried to take this morning and to remember where in Anderson, Indiana I left my cell phone. I'm going to go lock myself in my room, dye my hair blond and conform to the role of an airhead....
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