Superwoman is dead. She was found crushed beneath a mountain of laundry that swept over her like an avalanche. It was no surprise, really, her reflexes were understandably dulled from dutifully serving four hours in football field food booth, staying up past midnight to bake for the next day's tailgate party, getting thoroughly chilled at the morning soccer game, becoming thoroughly soaked at the afternoon band competition and then finishing out the day serving a dinner for the youth group (while looking like a drowned rat). The next day went no better for her as she rushed around until she finally met her doom in the laundry pile. Authorities are unsure whether her demise was caused by the weight of the behemoth that overtook her, or if she asphyxiated from the fumes rising from the tube socks from deep within the mass. No matter what the cause, we mourn our loss, even if Superwoman was, admittedly, delusional.
Yes, I know, you get it already. I'm not Superwoman, but wow - did I ever try. This weekend left me exhausted and wrung out. By bedtime on Sunday, I was demanding a weekend do-over - in vain, I might add. The best thing about weekends, though, is that in five days there will be another one, a better and brighter one, I hope!
But, please, if you will, let's have a moment of silence for Superwoman.