Wednesdays are now officially the day that I am tired. Not the only day, but the most day due to that improv class Carol is making me not quit (she said she would blog mean things about me if I bail, and as I’m about to prove below, I can’t handle mean things). I am up too late on Tuesdays.

My brain won’t chill out when I get home from class. It also seems that my children have gotten together and decided to that Tuesday night/Wednesday morning will be when their alarms accidentally go off at 2 a.m., or their covers get bunchy at 4 a.m., or they have a bad dream at 4:07 a.m.

Therefore, for the next seven Wednesdays, I will be tired. And irrational. Here are some examples of things that made me cry this morning…

:: Kenny Rogers and Dolly Parton singing together.

I didn’t see them live or anything; it was a clip on Today. Yep, I cried at 15-second clip of a song I don’t care for or about. But you know, it’s Kenny and Dolly. A not-so-brief history:

I was in the Dolly Parton Fan Club when I was a child. I may still be in the fan club if it’s a lifetime kind of thing. I love her. She’s the reason I have a healthy distrust of all boss-type people. No 9-5 jobs for me, because, “I swear sometimes that man is out to get me.”

And Kenny? Well, The Gambler is our song, mine and Mark’s. We honeymooned in the British Virgin Islands, on a private island owned by Amway. Seriously. Every night there was music in the courtyard outside the restaurant, and on our first night there the first song we heard was a steel drum version of The Gambler. Now it’s our song, and we always sing it in our best island accents.

:: Dolly and Kenny are made almost entirely of plastic now, and he is unrecognizable.

So I cried a little.

:: No cinnamon-raisin Ezekiel bread.

We’re out. I didn’t have any toast for my breakfast, and got misty-eyed.

:: A sense of accomplishment.

We keep all vitamins, allergy meds, etc. in one cabinet. Except we don’t.

I looked around this morning and found my supplements on one counter, fever reducers left out after the preschooler’s weekend virus on a different counter. There was a box in the pantry full of expired Immodium and Airborne tablets, and the cabinet where it’s all supposed to live was crammed with every other medicine or vitamin I have ever purchased.

I cleaned up that craziness. Then I got sort of verklempt when I realized A) I’d accomplished a big task before 8 a.m. and B) I probably won’t accomplish much else today.

:: Sappy commercials.

Do you know which one I’m talking about? It’s narrated by a little girl who says, “The day I became yours, you became mine.”

Damn. I’m ugly crying again.

If you’ve learned anything from the absurdity above, it should be this: On Wednesdays, I think it’s best to approach me with caution. Some guidelines…

Please don’t say anything mean to me.

Or nice.

Or sappy.

Maybe it’s best not to talk to me.

Please don’t look at me in any way that could be perceived as judgmental.

Or kind.

Or angry.

Just don’t look at me.

See you on Thursday.