a picture of me in my arms

I had an armload of crap this morning as I was busting ass to leave the Cottage to go to work.

And the crap, I later realized, represented a lot of who I am.

On one arm was slung my purse, which is an oversized bag, basically. It's got important stuff in it like a journal, notebook, calendar and random bosslike stuff.

Over that was my lunch bag, but not my regular green one, which I couldn't find and then later found under my desk. I packed my usuall - soup, some veggies and 60 cents. Yep, 60 cents loose in the bottom of my lunch bag. For one diet soda at lunch.

I was carrying my keys and phone in one hand. In my other hand was my dog's water dish. In her water dish was a Tupperware container of water. Uh-huh, she went to work with me for the second day in a row. Her leash was looped over my shoulder.

And tacky glue was in my other hand.

Because, as luck would have it, in the state's worst one-year drought, we had rain yesterday. And the rain dampened the duct tape that's holding one of my mirrors on and it had fallen off. My fortune worsened when the roll of duct tape in my car ran out. So I was left with packing tape. There was no way it was holding in the misty rain.

Tacky glue did not work.

But there you have it. My important things.

Phone = lifeline to people I love and ones I don't, but are necessary. Dog paraphenalia. Calendar. Keys. Food. Glue.

What else do you need?

I was thinking about this last night when, shortly after I'd gone to bed and cocooned myself in the covers, I smelled smoke.

I had even started closing my eyes and then, it was there. Smoke.

You know how it is - you're warm, you're cozy, you're sleepy. Your house could be burning down.

If you're like me, you're cursing under your breath and threatening, as you get out of bed out of obligation to check it out.

"I just got the covers warm, there better be flames."
"If I get outside and I don't see a forest fire, I'm going to be effing pissed."

But then, counter arguments start:

"Damn. A fire would be so much work and I'm tiiiirreeddd."
"That means I'd have to figure out what I'd want to take with me and I don't have the energy for that. But wait, what would I take?"
"If I ignore the smell of smoke, I could die. I could lay here in my bed, all warm and snuggly, and then the flames could overtake me."

My last thought before falling asleep was something along the lines of: smoke means there's fire, which means there's a fire somewhere in the wind vicinity of me. Who would be burning anything at 11 p.m.? Maybe I should just call the fire department and report the smell of smoke....

This morning, I think I answered my own question of what I would take. I had everything I needed in my arms. Basically.