Dullsville...
That's where I seem to be living - Central Dullsville, just around the corner from West Yawnmouth, on Blah Boulevard.
I can't wait for school to be done. I'm so over it right now.
My creative juices have run drier than, well, see, drier than a desert. That's just how low they've gotten - I can't even conjure up a comparison that's not hackneyed. My poor imaginary Bien Aime has got to be feeling neglected.
My husband's diet has me reverting to some old behaviors - eating cookies when he's not home, for example. I shouldn't feel guilty for having 2 cookies (because I really only have room for 2 - sometimes, if they're smallish, I'll have 3) when he's not at home, because technically, I'm not dieting. I'm done with the weight loss thing. Done. However, I don't like this behavior returning - it's too easy for that to become a habit.
I am now living on a budget, thanks to that monthly car payment and exorbitant gas prices. I hate living on a budget. I suck at it. Usually, I know roughly what I've got in my account and roughly how much is coming out in bills every month. Now, since that car payment factored in, I've got to be a lot more careful about the casual trip to Target that I was wont to make.
And, unfortunately, I am now about 2 sizes smaller than I was this time last year, so a lot of my shorts are falling down on me. Tops are allowed to be somewhat roomy. Shorts? Not so much. I hate wearing belts on shorts/pants that are too big, because the bunchy fabric around my waist/hips creates that ever so flattering Mom Pooch. Er, no thanks. I'll pass. Just call me Droopy Drawers.
My house is a hideous pigsty of filth and clutter. And I always turn into a bitch when I have to ask people to clean up their own crap.
I need a vacation. From my life.
I can't wait for school to be done. I'm so over it right now.
My creative juices have run drier than, well, see, drier than a desert. That's just how low they've gotten - I can't even conjure up a comparison that's not hackneyed. My poor imaginary Bien Aime has got to be feeling neglected.
My husband's diet has me reverting to some old behaviors - eating cookies when he's not home, for example. I shouldn't feel guilty for having 2 cookies (because I really only have room for 2 - sometimes, if they're smallish, I'll have 3) when he's not at home, because technically, I'm not dieting. I'm done with the weight loss thing. Done. However, I don't like this behavior returning - it's too easy for that to become a habit.
I am now living on a budget, thanks to that monthly car payment and exorbitant gas prices. I hate living on a budget. I suck at it. Usually, I know roughly what I've got in my account and roughly how much is coming out in bills every month. Now, since that car payment factored in, I've got to be a lot more careful about the casual trip to Target that I was wont to make.
And, unfortunately, I am now about 2 sizes smaller than I was this time last year, so a lot of my shorts are falling down on me. Tops are allowed to be somewhat roomy. Shorts? Not so much. I hate wearing belts on shorts/pants that are too big, because the bunchy fabric around my waist/hips creates that ever so flattering Mom Pooch. Er, no thanks. I'll pass. Just call me Droopy Drawers.
My house is a hideous pigsty of filth and clutter. And I always turn into a bitch when I have to ask people to clean up their own crap.
I need a vacation. From my life.
Labels: amour, peevish, South Beach, Weight loss surgery, yo teach
posted by Peevish McSnark at
11:10 PM
1 Comments:
I hear ya, sister. I'm counting down the days myself. And also feeeling the budget crunch (until the tax rebate comes in and we close on the house).
If you can scrape together the funds for gas, you're always welcome to escape to Virginia. :-)
By
Anonymous, At
3:51 PM
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