<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_tZVufRlMtzM/S3LpWW9Eo3I/AAAAAAAABpY/9ig0HvHv6xw/s1600-h/DSC07458.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_tZVufRlMtzM/S3LpWW9Eo3I/AAAAAAAABpY/9ig0HvHv6xw/s640/DSC07458.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><br />I couldn't do anything but stare at the receptionist, my mouth agape. <br /><br />Ladies and gents, this morning was one of those mornings. At its end I was standing at the window of what I like to call my lady doctor's office. Through the tiny public access opening she was telling me that, one, my 9am appointment had been moved to 2pm; two, their office called me yesterday to inform me of this change; and three, my husband had called their office with a message for me that I'd driven off with the car seat and that I was about to make him late for a huge exam at school. <br /><br />Yeah. Like I said, one of those mornings. <br /><br />Did my morning end in a fiery explosion of repressed fury? <a href="http://www.ttownmoms.com/?page=blogs/view&amp;BLID=7483">Find out on my blog at Ttownmoms.com</a>.