I must demand that our government cease and desist from their hostile takeover of the earth. I can�t deal with the anxiety, so I declare it�s time for Bushy to get a new hobby. Maybe a nice ant farm or something.

Anxiety and bizarre dreams ruled my weekend� tense, restless dreams-bordering-on-nightmares about our evil government spying on me because of my design skills; and evil Iraqui fedayeen with chemical weapons and filthy, rape-hungry penises lurking around every corner; and having my arm hacked off because I couldn�t find a comfortable way to sleep on it; and my check to Lane Bryant bouncing and leaving us destitute; and something unclear but terribly urgent about the online game �Cubis� (which I�ve admittedly been playing way too much of lately, but still.)

The whole �not being able to breathe and thinking it must be SARS� thing was quite the heart-thumper as well. Because I�m sure that it couldn�t just be something simple like an asthma attack brought on by the fifty pounds of chocolate I�ve snarfed into my face over the past week in the form of cool, delicious peppermint patties (which at only three points apiece can make a surprisingly big dent in the day�s points if you eat them three at a time.) In an ill-thought-out effort to quell all my various maladies so I could actually get some sleep, my bedtime �snack� last night consisted of: a vitamin tablet (since my not taking them lately might just have something to do with the overall deterioration of my mental health;). two magnesium tablets (to offset the heartburn caused by the giant portion of comfort-food spaghetti I had for supper;) two kava kava capsules (to hopefully knock my anxious ass right on into dreamland, thus bypassing the usual �lie here and worry about Chicago being blown up by terrorists� hour;) then back up to fix myself a nice helping of the fizzy miracle cold medicine that I�m hoping might be effective against SARS and asthma as well; and several sugar-free cough drops to soothe the throat irritation I get from constantly going AHEMMMMM! in a vain attempt to clear the gunk out of my lungs so�s I might actually be able to get some air in there. It�s a wonder Prince Charming didn�t find me dead in a pool of my own puke this morning.

(And now for a short break while I go get dressed for work�)

Ok, NOW I remember why I never buy linen clothing. I keep forgetting that although the care tag says �warm iron if needed� what it REALLY means is, �a warm iron is your only hope of not looking like you slept in this outfit.� But I just HAD to have this two-piece khaki pantsuit from Lane Bryant... the top just fit me so cute and the color is really good on me. Unfortunately, this morning I discovered that despite my efforts at removing the wrinkles by the wet-towel-in-dryer method followed by a last desperate de-wrinkling attempt by quick rinse and perma-press dry, the new outfit still demanded a good pressing with an actual iron. After spending 20 minutes to find the ironing board and another 20 spray-starching and ironing (with the help of several cats who apparently love ironing due to: a) it involves installing a brand-new horizontal surface in the apartment and they claim territorial rights to any and all horizontal surfaces for napping and playing purposes and b) it involves the rhythmic motion of an object with a long, dangly tail across said horizontal surface and c) there is an element of danger in that one could easily scorch one�s nose or lose whiskers to the heat or have one�s head bashed in by the falling iron. (How could they resist?)) I put on the freshly-pressed outfit and admired my spiffy new self in the mirror. And foolishly went to take a piss, and pressed several deep creases in both pants and shirt by having the bad judgment to actually sit down for thirty seconds. Nice to know I took the risk of floating a check for 80 bucks just so I could end up looking like a wino. On the upside, I got a good guffaw at the Prince�s expense upon learning he�d mistaken the can I left on the dresser for hairspray and spray-starched his head.

And in the here we go again department� I am doing very badly on the diet lately. I know what I am doing wrong. I�m eating too much sweet stuff, too many snacks, not enough fruit and vegetables� but damn, if vegetables are so good for you, why do they have to taste so crappy? Wouldn�t the survival of the species be better served if a tossed green salad tasted like more like Reesey cups?

The real problem (well, the OTHER real problem besides lack of discipline) is, as usual, laziness and disorganization. I tend to eat the same things over and over because they�re easy to fix and I don�t have to think about them. And when I get predictably sick of them, I don�t have any healthy alternatives handy so I eat crap. The disorganization in my kitchen makes me crazy, too. The kitchen is tiny so there�s no place to work comfortably. The light above the stove smells like an electrical fire every time I turn it on, so I don�t which means there�s not enough light to work by. The fridge is tiny and always packed so full that finding any given food item and getting it out of there is a major production. The trash is always overflowing so I�ve got no place to throw anything away while cooking, thus creating more mess and even less room to work. The dishwasher is always full of either clean or dirty dishes, meaning that as I make new dirty dishes they wind up filling every last inch of the counter and sink, causing further chaos and inconvenience. I really don�t mind cooking all that much, but the hassle and mess that goes along with cooking in a tiny, messy kitchen is just too much of a drag. Is it any wonder I want to eat out all the time? I guess today�s agenda needs to include a thorough reorganization of the kitchen. And a big talk with the fam about helping out more with the trash and dishes.

Well, that�s it for now� time to haul my fat, rumpled, anxious self off to the salt mines. Oh, joy.

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Previous - Next
Last Five
Crappy job crap, weird neighbor, and someone whose baby I apparently want to have - 2006-05-08
Live from the dump - 2006-04-09
Kind of like a muzzle for your brain - 2006-03-29
...and then she fell ass-first into my cereal bowl - 2006-03-28
Playing catch-up - 2006-03-27

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