Death on a Waffle

I have just crawled out of an all-nighter coma. Last night was Grad Nite at Disney, and I was lead chaperone.

Remember when we all used to wait until 9:30 to get dressed to go out? Having children kicks that ability right out of the system. Now, consciousness at 9:30 is a major accomplishment, especially if a child has fallen asleep against you (better than Unisom).

Last night, though, I load up ninety kid into a couple of school buses and chug down I-4 to Mouse Town. We turned them loose in the park until 4 am. I got to watch a free screening of National Treasure (not Oscar-worthy, but fun stuff, especially if you actually enjoyed your American history classes, and the sidekick is adorable) and eat free breakfast at midnight. We crawled back to the buses a little after 4 am, and I crawled into bed at six.

Which brings me to my current state of being, Death on a Waffle. It's kind of like Death on Toast, but with the added fun of freezer burn. You know, bad hair, pajamas at 1 pm, knowledge that people have been talking to you off and on during the morning, but no clue what they said...kind of like a hangover, but without the alcohol spike between the eyes.

Shower. Food. Consciousness.