The contractor expects me to have spoken to my husband about decisions that I don't even remember I'm supposed to make. Actually, the contractor expects me to have spoken to my husband. The measuring guys expect me between 1:00 and 2:00 which means 1:30 to me since you split the difference but means 1:00 on the dot to them. The teacher expects me to select a time for a parent teacher conference from a list that has no correspondence with the sitter's availability list. I expect, naively, that the children will actually do what I ask of them when we are due somewhere other than where we are and undressed with wild hair. I expect the sun is shining, somewhere.
What else to do then, but... send in a contest entry. I haven't written fiction in a long time, but I had the cutest idea to make a story entirely out of noun phrases. The deadline is not for three weeks but I could tweak this thing to death and not change the basic idea so here goes. After Valentine's Day, I'll be free to send it somewhere else, too.
There. And with this post, I have accomplished something else today.