This is how it happens. I leave behind the e-mails I should send and the stories I should submit. Trade it for a run between lakes, organic salads and inorganic fries. I wouldn't know the difference. I eat three pieces of bread between 7:30 a.m. and 4 p.m. My little ones disappoint me today but when they fill every step of the podium, including the first, none of them much over four feet, I can't stop clapping.
I dehydrate. I storm around Borders and buy the same book I bought two years ago for the same person. I pace back and forth in front of one particular display until, with a rare burst of spontaneity, I pick up Glee: The Music, Volume One. I judge myself. I crank it all the way up on the drive home.