2:00 a.m. HSH (highly sensitive husband) goes downstairs to sleep on the couch because he keeps getting awoken by the loud snoring of his HSW (highly sensitive wife), who is having anxiety dreams (she missed her final exam because she got carried away with the ice-cream machine at the dining hall–filling up 21 small paper ketchup containers with all the different flavors, all of which are too cold on her highly sensitive teeth).
2:10 a.m. HSH is back upstairs to get a softer pillow for his highly sensitive head.
5:15 a.m. The state of South Dakota on the HSB’s (highly sensitive boy’s) talking puzzle of the United States wakes up HSH again. He bangs it with his highly sensitive hand, but it won’t stop saying “Pierre is the capital of South Dakota. Population, 14,000.” Finally, the miffed HSH goes into his highly sensitive woodshop (the garage) to get a screwdriver to dismantle the thing. As he yanks the IN (insensitive) AA Energizer batteries out of there, it finally shuts up. This reminds HSH of the time his HSW tossed a Whinnie the Pooh keychain into the back yard when she couldn’t get it to stop playing the Whinnie the Pooh theme song. (Her efforts with a hammer in the woodshop didn’t succeed at rendering the thing mute … So every time she opened the back door to let the dogs do their business for three days–until the AA Energizers finally surrendered–she heard the annoying tune.)
5:30 a.m. HSH’s cell phone rings as an alarm (which is gentler than an alarm). He begins his day early in order to sneak at least a half-hour of quiet, alone time before the HSK (highly sensitive kids) rise from their highly sensitive beds.
6:00 a.m. HSB (highly sensitive boy) wakes up because his highly sensitive ears heard the coffee grains being tossed in the trash. He watches highly sensitive cartoons (just kidding … there are none), while HSH pays the household highly sensitive bills: for items such as swimming shirts to protect against too much UV rays and pollution (pee and worse) in the pool, extra expensive sunscreen for highly sensitive skin, psychiatrist visits for HSW (highly sensitive wife), ear phones for HSW’s laptop computer (so she can tune out all small talk at the coffee shop with her friends Bach and Mozart), Chemlawn services for the HSY (highly sensitive yard), organic fruits and meats for highly sensitive digestive systems, bottles of glucosamine-condrotin for highly sensitive joints, lots of vitamin C for highly sensitive immune systems, and high dollar running shoes for highly sensitive feet (with highly sensitive arches).

7:00 a.m. HSG (highly sensitive girl) wakes up, at first panicking because HSM (highly sensitive mom) is nowhere to be seen. HSM immediately greets her and kisses her (before everything goes downhill.)
7:15 a.m. HSM tries to dress HSG. The first outfit irritates HSG’s highly sensitive neck (no turtle necks, Mom!); the second doesn’t cover her HSG’s highly sensitive bellybutton; the third isn’t the right shade of pink; the fourth doesn’t match HSG’s mood. Finally HSM tells HSG that she is wearing the fifth outfit or else HSG goes naked for the day. Then they together begin the scavenger hunt for one of HSG’s three pair of glasses for her highly sensitive eyes.
7:30 a.m. HSM sneaks out for her sanity break, a run around the Naval Academy that serves as overarousal insurance, extra padding around her extra sensitive self, which might delay a breakdown caused by overstimulation (of a Saturday with two HSK and a HSH) by at least two hours.
8:30 a.m. HSH cooks breakfast–eggs, sausage, and oatmeal–for the HSF. A drop of milk falls on HSB’s leg, and hysteria breaks out. HSH rushes to get a paper towel before the drop makes it down his leg further, which will insure a rotten day. HSG demands that HSM blow on her sausage for approximately 15 minutes, or until the links reach room temperature.
8:45 a.m. The two HSD (highly sensitive dogs) go ballistic at the mailman when he delivers the a box of Omega-3 (fish oil) for the families’ highly sensitive brains that should last a month, until the next installment comes.
9:00 a.m. A spoon falls on HSB’s toe as the phone rings. HSM can’t hear a fellow preschool mom because of the mayhem in the background caused by the spoon accident, but she thinks the fellow mom is inviting she and the HSK to Xtreme Bounce Zone, a 6,000 square foot indoor private party facility with five huge interactive inflatables, the last place that a HSP should go. HSM deliberates–can the HSF (highly sensitive family) handle this? She doesn’t think so, but now with her meds in her, plus fish oil, plus a run this morning, and her medal of St. Therese in her pocket, she decides to attempt it. Even though we are highly sensitive (a bit like aliens), we must adjust to a world that is not highly sensitive, she tells herself, the usual morning pep talk.
9:15 a.m. HSM loads the HSKs in the highly sensitive mobile (much like the pope mobile, with extra padding), as HSH says, “The force be with you.”
9:16 a.m. HSM almost hits the SUV parked behind her for the third time this year, because she can’t concentrate as the HSKs bicker in the backseat. “And with you, too” she tells HSH, as the car makes its way to Xtreme Bounce Zone, or land of the highly insensitive.