So the babysitter didn't show. Sad, sad, SAD day for Mama P. However, on a good note, in joyous expectation of her arrival, I swept floors, did laundry and moved my booty more than I normally do before 10am. With hope of a break came a good attitude, which made the fall less difficult. Especially the fall onto shiny floors.
The sitter eventually called - from across the street (where she lives... that's funny in itself) and told me she forgot due to illness. Fine. She'll come next week for 6 hours instead. SIX hours alone? What am I going to do then? Write a novel? Solve Global Warming? Actually dye my hair? I'm skeeeeeeeeered, peeps.