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He’s a Keeper

So we’ve decided to carpool. Gas prices being what they are, driving an SUV isn’t the cheapest way to go. So I thought, “Hey, I know! I’ll let Garrett drop me off at work in the morning and pick me up after work and save oodles and oodles of money!” I’m so smart. I didn’t graduate summa cum laude for nothing.

But the devil is in the details. Garrett has to be at work by 7:30am, and it takes him 35 minutes to get there. Dropping me off takes him a little out of the way, so I’ve been getting to work at 6:45. In the AM. That’s the butt-crack of dawn, people. And most other people roll in around 9am. And that used to be me. So when I get to work, I’m vewy vewy tired.

But I’m saving money.

Still, the cash in the bank doesn’t help with the sleep deprivation. And it got worse and worse as the week went on. Yesterday I was barely conscious when I walked past security toward my cubicle. When I sat down at my desk I laid my head down, but was afraid I’d actually fall asleep and start snoring, to the amusement of my co-workers. So I drank a couple cups of (weak) coffee and managed to stay awake.

Until a meeting with my boss, which consisted of walking around the building very fast for a half hour. For exercise, you know. By the time we were done, I was actually dizzy.


Thank goodness that was near the end of the day. By the time Garrett picked me up I was in Survival Mode. It was so good to see my man. He opened the door for me and I saw these in my seat:

I think I giggled.

I put them on my dresser next to one of our engagement pics. They’re called Latin Ladies. Appropriate, don’t you think? I think I’ll keep him.

And I drove myself to work this morning.

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