I'm officially stressed.

My cortisol is now running the show. And she always makes a mess of everything.

I told David this morning, "I don't think I would be near this stressed if I wasn't going to Utah today." He said, "I would agree." Just that. Just calmly, mildly agreed with me. Maddening! I've got enough cortisol in me to fight or flight my way through Armageddon, and he just agrees with me. Argh.

And the whole entire point of going to Utah in the first place was to get recharged, rejuvenated, destressed, and filled up. I'm seriously contemplating not going, and David can't understand this.

"What do you have to do?" He asks this as if he is completely mystified. As if my life is just one breezy, delightful whim after another.

The problem is I've got youth conference on Saturday morning...5:30 a.m. at the church...and I don't get back home from Women's Conference (at BYU) until late Friday night. And I need to have t-shirts, food, games, permission forms, 40 bicycles and helmets, sunscreen, and water ready to go. Before I get on the plane this afternoon.

It's all the little things that are plaguing me now. Don't forget spatulas to turn the hamburgers. And matches. Oh, and hamburgers.

As he left, David said, "Are you okay?"

No. I am definitely NOT okay. I'm freakin' out, people.