Diaper Pails and the Primary

I get to work today. Not that I don't work every day, but usually it involves sitting in my office/cave where no one sees me. Today, it's real work, as in I get to wear real big people clothes without baby stuff, spit, etc., on them. I'm headed out to the polls to chat with real voters as part of a primary audio slide show.
And here again is where I end up feeling like a desperate housewife. The sitter's coming at 9:15. I'm meeting the photographer downtown Exeter at 10. Willie needs to get dressed. I, of course, am in pants that have even been ironed, when I head to his room to accomplish this great task. Obstacle 1: Dirty diaper.
Obstacle 2: Willie wants to put his hands in the dirty diaper.
Obstacle 3: he has been protesting the changing table as if I was torturing him, so here I am, in my freshly ironed clothes, holding him on the floor to change his diaper. I managed to get him clean. But as I go to toss the diaper into the fancy diaper pail-- he bolts. Naked baby now running around the room throwing his books from the shelves into the air. Laughing as if this is the best thing he's ever seen.
And Kenny apparently tried to reassemble the fancy diaper pail, which is now completely filled with dirty diapers and completed messed up. The bag won't come out. I am swearing at the diaper pail, trying to haul the bag out with no luck, while cursing Kenny.
Willie hearing me take Kenny's name in vain starts crying. 10 minutes to leaving the house at this point.
AHHH.
We're all dressed. I think I escaped without becoming too dissheveled.
I'm off.
No diapers.