Dana Does Dating

The real anticipation sinks in about an hour before she's supposed to leave work. She has things to do. Look at them. There they are, sitting on her desk. She chats with co-workers, works on her to-do list for the coming week and can barely sit still in her chair. In fact she's out of it more than she's in it. At last 4:45 rolls around and after her long week of working she can justify taking off.

Traffic is a sea of red tail lights snuggling in close together. Much like in grad school, she appreciates the extra time to listen to a genius playlist that doesn't get her too riled up and lets her sing at the top of her voice. She's thankful for the rush hour - she truly can't be doing anything else (although she does nervously drumroll on the steering wheel from time to time and there is definitely a suspicious grin spread across her face). Occasionally she has to remind herself that there are in fact cars in front of her, you know, braking.

Home at last (5:25), she dashes in the front door. Her feet don't know the meaning of "walk" any more. She runs around, putting things away (because her apartment should not reflect the chaos that is thudding in her chest) and feeding an insistent cat. Although she's starving, she diligently moves on to her next step, because food can not come before the workout (5:35).

As she's been getting over a cold this week, her workouts have been easy-going. But tonight, the energy and excitement (and the freaked-out-ness her conscience prompts) can't get her little legs moving fast enough on her elliptical. She lets the music overwhelm her and rocks out for half an hour, hoping to calm down.

Shower time (6:15). She's still starving, but eating right after the workout doesn't bode too well for the stomach either. After quickly washing the day's makeup off, she hops under the relaxing hot stream, water and sweat mingling and distilling until she literally squeaks.

A few Cuties (food finally at 6:30!) are thrown down as she lets the tension flow through her fingers and into the keyboard. She's been writing this blog post in her head for the past hour in attempt to distract those darn butterflies in her stomach.

She grabs a yogurt from the fridge and tosses a few bites in her mouth before she realizes her cheeks are finally cool enough (remember the intense workout and steamy shower?) for her to put her foundation on. She puts deodorant on (twice...er,,,for good measure, not because she forgot or anything), throws a few more bites of yogurt down, plugs in her hot rollers, and blowdrys her hair. Although she is quite sure this defies certain date laws, she is perfectly aware that her bangs come out of the situation looking better than they have all week.

After whisking her hair up in the hot rollers (if only this action were that carefree - 6:58)), and cramming the rest of the yogurt down her throat, she dashes back to the bathroom mirror to put on makeup (she keeps it simple and delights in the metallic ivory shimmer effect her eyelids end up with...the cute/sexy ethos is definitely emerging - 7:10). Back to the keyboard to release more of that darn tension. The cat, tired of being ignored, hops up in bed and stubbornly sits "in her lap" (despite the fact that the only lap he can find is arm-legs-arm...he doesn't even seem to mind the jiggling motion the typing sends him in).

7:18. Shit!!! I'm "supposed" to leave at 7:20 if I'm going to be in north Boulder by 8:00. Sorry kitty, time to take the rollers out. And what the hell happened to the third person? Rollers out. Earrings in. Rings on. Oh yeah, I got dressed in there somewhere. Phone. Hairspray (crap, keep your eyes closed you idiot!). Coat. Eek, I don't like how that one looks. Second coat. Purse. Blogger! (because at this point I have to...err, no time to proofread!). Spectacles, testicles, watch, wallet?

7:28...out the door! Go you dork :)