Houston, we have a problem
Last week I overslept, spent about a minute and half with my house guests, and then ran out the door with my shoes still unbuckled and a list of the one million things I felt I needed to accomplish before 10 am frantically spinning around in my head. On the drive down the hill towards the BART station, I fumbled around in my purse (while keeping my eyes on the road, natch) for my phone. At the stop sign I…