Hamsters, Starbucks & Blue Boxes

With less than two weeks to go before the big event known as the 3-day for the Cure--the one where I walk the walk all 60 miles in three days--it's easy to let my weekly blog post get tossed curbside in preparation for this extravaganza.

I'm not exactly sure what I was thinking when I decided to do the 60-mile walk. I'm fairly certain it must have had something to do with chocolate withdrawal, sleep deprivation or a combination thereof, and I'm fairly certain it had absolutely nothing to do with any shred of sanity I might still possess.

But nonetheless, I didn't want for this to become an excuse for not writing something amusing, witty or enlightening. But when I reflected on my past week, very little came to mind. Most of last week was pretty much like the start of this week. I spent an inordinate amount  of time feeling like a hamster spinning round and round "full of sound and fury, signifying nothing." But unlike our little furry rodent, I'm fairly certain my spinning round and round doesn't even result in weight loss.

My week was so pathetic I couldn't even manage to ignore my yearbook rep even though I have that nifty little Guns N' Roses "Welcome to the Jungle" ringer that signals his calls. Now before you feel all warm and fuzzy and sorry for him, I did attempt to return his phone calls. (Can I help it if he won't answer his phone at 7 a.m.?) He's such a nice guy, though, he showed up mid-week with a Starbucks grande non-fat, three raw sugar latte in hand because, as he put it, "I probably needed one."

Just when I started to feel a tad bit warm and fuzzy over his sensitivity, my yearbook rep told me and the kiddos about another wealthier school district where the yearbook students there brought their adviser gifts in one of those nifty little blue boxes.

You know the box. The one I'll never get in my lifetime. Yeah, that one. The Tiffany & Company one.

And that warm and fuzzy feeling?

Well, I'm pretty sure that came from the steamed milk from my latte.