Before that I got into bed.
Before that I brushed my teeth.
Before that I was checking emails and reading.
Before that I was online — pretty much wasting time.
Before that I watched the remainder of the latest episode of “Fargo.”
Before that I put my wife to bed.
Before that I held her and kissed her and said “I love you so much.”
Before that I laughed with my wife as we watched “Project Runway.”
Before that I had some water while looking up possible names for a company.
Before that I kissed my daughter goodnight as my wife put her to bed.
Before that I had some dinner as my wife read to my daughter.
Before that I did the dishes while my wife and daughter played.
Before that I fed my daughter dinner and played with her until mommy came home.
Before that I stopped at the store to grab yogurt with my daughter — who giggled as I lifted her to bat at balloons as we passed them.
Before that I sang along to Ed Sheeran on the radio as I drove to pick up my daughter.
Before that I prepared some notes for a creative project I’m working on with two friends.
Before that I took a shower and sat to relax for a bit.
Before that I checked in with my wife about some good news.
Before that I finished up some work for a freelance gig and prepared my invoice for the last two weeks.
Before that I napped to reach my Fitbit sleep goal before my day “started” and wrote to my wife about one naughty dream and one random dream.
Before that I listened to “Part of Your World” and “Hakuna Matata” on loop at the continual request of my daughter as we drove to school.
Before that I dressed and changed my daughter then threw clothes on myself.
Before that my daughter finished breakfast after saying goodbye to mommy — then waved to her from the window as mama walked to bus (where she will go “up and down” all the way to work).
Before that was time for oatMEAL (emphasis on the second syllable as my daughter says it).
Before that my wife got out of bed to say good morning to our risen and shining baby girl as I hit the bathroom.
Before that I had a dream wherein I was part of some kind of dance troupe learning a routine from a video featuring Henry Winkler (yes, “The Fonz” )— who opened the instructional tape with a pun on the name of the company that produced it.
Before that my wife appeared in a risqué dream of which I will not speak.
Before that I went to bed having written something that made me cry to read back and excited to write again.