Saturday morning I woke up, and in less than two minutes I was in the presidential debate of 2004. That's right, in the debate. Against Bush. At the podium. In my bathrobe. And I was making some good points because I wasn't dreaming.
What the hell? Why would I think of such things on a beautiful day off before driving home for my 3-day Easter weekend?
Other mornings I've had comedy routines go through my head, or how I'd apologize to a friend years and years after an argument, or what I would say at a family member's funeral. And at the time it makes total sense to be thinking of it. But if I have to decide what to have for dinner...(sound of clock ticking)
If you could go back in time, or forward -- anywhere but the present -- I'd know just what to say, which is why I can't think of a good ending for this blog right now. I'll see what happens over Cheerios tomorrow and get back to you.