5:54 a.m.: Are you frakking kidding? There is no good reason for me to be awake this early.

6:06 a.m.: Handful of almonds, mug of grapefruit juice. E-mail, blog, Facebook.

6:21 a.m.: Status update: Romy Owens picked the wrong week to stop sniffing glue.

6:29 a.m.: Research window clings online for November solo show at aka Gallery.

6:35 a.m.: Why am I researching information about window clings? Like I need to be an expert in window clings. I don’t.

6:39 a.m.: My startup disk is almost full. What? How about if I stop what I’m working on and clean up my hard drive?

6:50 a.m.: I need a desktop computer. I love my laptop, but it’s not enough. (And then a single tear rolls down my cheek.)

6:52 a.m.: I hate doing dishes, but they don’t do themselves.

7:03 a.m.: I don’t understand what it means that the Dow is at 10,000.

7:07 a.m.:  Chris Cuomo is ridiculously handsome.

7:19 a.m.: News = depressing.

7:21 a.m.: New background noise = “Harold & Kumar Go to White Castle.”

7:30 a.m.: Sew Cafe City Arts piece while 22GB of video move from iPhoto to my external hard drive.

8 a.m.: Run to Starbucks for coffee and oatmeal. Just doing my part to keep corporate America working.

8:04 a.m.: Can I pump gas wearing pajamas?

8:05 a.m.: Not can I … should I?

8:45 a.m.: Window clings done. Easy peasy.

9:10 a.m.: Singing Journey in the shower makes me feel like Neo after he eats the cookie in “The Matrix”: right as rain, my friend.

9:22 a.m.: I think I have significantly more gray hairs than I did a month ago. Rethink the whole “aging gracefully” plan.

9:35 a.m.: While pumping gas, I wonder how boys with the baggy pants keep their pants on. It defies all understanding I have of how pants work.

9:38 a.m.: Having to go into the gas station for a receipt defeats the purpose of paying at the pump.

9:43 a.m.: Post office for 1,828 postcard stamps and to pick up stopped mail. Holy crap: 1,828 postcard stamps cost $511.84!

10:20 a.m.: Target for socks, tights, toothpaste, deodorant and rain boots. Costs $74.

10:32 a.m.: Talk to my sister about health insurance, which I don’t have. Her family’s insurance rate was raised 62%.

10:37 a.m.: Bank. Teller Sallie asks me for the first time in 12 years what I do for a living. I say artist. She asks what kind. I say photography. She asks if I do weddings. No.

1:59 p.m.: At home, grab a bag of potato chips to eat in the car on my way to OVAC.

3:21 p.m.: Getting carsick from trying to type e-mails on my iPhone.

3:40 p.m.: Arrive in Stillwater. Stillwater. Still. Water. Does that mean stagnant? Or peaceful?

3:50 p.m.: Part of panel of four speakers talking about being an organized artist at this OVAC workshop. I’m supposed to talk about time management. Whose idea was this?

4:04 p.m.: Liz Roth just breathed bronchitis on me.

4:08 p.m.: There’s a woman here named Velma. I love that name.

4:40 p.m.: Getting up so blasted early has caught up with me, and I am enveloped in a wave of exhaustion.

4:42 p.m.: Maybe that’s just dehydration. Oh, crap. Now it’s my turn to talk.

5:09 p.m.: A woman just told me during my presentation that I need to relax and enjoy a glass of wine. This makes me acutely aware that I am the worst speaker ever.

6:25 p.m.: Back in the car, conversation is focused on why some people buy Oklahoman art only if it’s sold in Santa Fe. Like there’s a prestige to buying it there.

9:01 p.m.: At Will’s Lobby Bar having a drink with Clint Stone. First real food of the day since oatmeal? Yes, please.

10:50 p.m.: Home sweet home.

11 p.m.: Another last e-mail check because I can’t stand having unopened e-mail. Respond to seven. Delete four. Sit on two to think of how to respond with kindness.

11:10 p.m.: John C. Reilly is on Conan. Did he just say something about a vampire movie? Eep.

11:16 p.m.: Review calendar for tomorrow. Crap.