Good morning to you, you live in a zoo, you look like a monkey and smell like one too!

Tomorrow, or as I just noticed today (it's past midnight) I am going to rip my sleeping, anticipatingly (is that a word?) grumpy kids out of bed at 7:45am to go work out. For some bizarre reason that has to do with schedules, day wasting and other tedious things such as swim lessons and day camp the women I exercise with have all decided to move our workout from 9:30am to 8am for the summer. I hesitantly agreed because everyone else in our group was so annoyingly joyous over this change. These are probably also the same women who have children that miraculously end up in bed before the hour of 11pm even though the sun is bright as midday, and go to bed sweetly and together with their husbands as the church bell chimes 10pm, able to drift into sweet dreams because their house is clean, dishes are done with no worries in their pretty little heads. Have they not seen me clumsily stumble into the gym exasperated every Tuesday and Thursday 15 minutes late to an already early class in my mind, 9:30am. Do they think the pressure of an hour and a half less of a morning is somehow going to lull me into a deep sleep sometime before 2am or propel me and my 2 night owls out of bed at 7:30am? Hmmmmm, not likely. So, now my workout has been disagreeably cut from 1 hour to 30 minutes because I guarantee I will NEVER be there on time. But in the end it works out because I am now going to have to wash my face, brush my teeth, get dressed and run up and down 2 flights of stairs repeatedly as I forget one thing after the other trying to make it out the door on time, while the entire time one-arming a nursing 2 year old. My workout will end up being quite effective.