PTA Executive board meeting 9-10 a.m., to which I was already dragging a 3-year-old, now add a 7-year-old home from school, eye almost swollen shut with a stye.
Make 4 dozen cupcakes, 24 graham-cracker-crumb "sandy beaches" with cocktail parasols, 24 blue icing with construction-paper shark fins sticking out (thank you Martha Stewart) for advance celebration of 7-year-old's summer birthday in school tomorrow, assuming eye is better.
Possibly go to doctor although there is nothing to do for a stye but wait.
Drive 9-year-old to 2:45 piano lesson
Make dinner way ahead of time because of:
Out-of-town baseball game at 6 o'clock.
Call yard man and ask him to tear out all bushes in back yard (I know this seems like it would take two seconds, but if you have phone phobia like me it takes all day. Weeks.)
Usual laundry and tidying.
Deciding whether to buy this bed, this bed, or this bed, or some infinitely better and just as cheap bed I will discover one week after one of those beds arrives.
And I started all this off with a silly fight with my dear husband. I was telling him about my parking adventures this weekend while he was away. The main idea of the story was supposed to be "Our town is so hip that you come to blows with people trying to get a space on Saturday night" but it ended up being "Why do you always start with the assumption that I'm in the wrong when I tell a driving-related story?" I should never converse before 9 a.m.