You know you've slept through your alarm when you show up to the office with fresh pillow marks still creasing your face.
The mad dash that was my morning? Foreshadowing. (If I knew it was physiologically possible, I'd say I didn't even exhale until I collapsed into my car to drive home). Suffice it to say that live TV is fast-paced. And three hour shows are excruciatingly long. And the combination of the two is wild.
Ok, whew. Don't anybody go calling the wahhhhmbulance. I'm done whining.
Going to sit on my porch (wrapped in my burnt orange blanket) and let my neighbors think I'm creepy for taking pictures of nature. (I'm only interested in the flowers, lady. Not trying to peep through your blinds!)