I think too much. I guess sometimes that’s good… like when I’m trying to solve complex math equations. But it’s also bad… like when I’m not trying to solve complex math equations. I’m incapable of living in the moment which, if I could, I understand, would make me far less anxious… and maybe even happy(ish). What I can do, however, is take myself from calm to panic in less than sixty seconds. And I don’t even realize I’m doing it until it’s too late. I guess that’s a realization in and of itself.
Recently, I’ve come to a few of other realizations. I think they might all be bad. But maybe that’s open to interpretation…?
I have a uniform. No, it’s not for my [non-existent] job. It’s my life uniform (yeah, I did just make that up). I wear it every day. Sure, there are some slight variations, but in the end, it’s pretty much the same: jeans or black yoga pants and a black tee/shirt/sweater/hoodie. Sometimes, I mix it up and wear grey or navy. But only if I’m feeling wild.
But I do wear fun socks. Sometimes. Right now, I’m wearing panda socks (see above).
[FYI the girl pictured is not me. If I am ever that skinny, please throw cheeseburgers at me. And maybe a cake. No offense skinny people. I’m just jealous. I have never, in my adult life, been a size 2.]
I think the most annoying thing in my life is my husband.
The best thing about my kids being back in school is being able to make that edible oatmeal cookie dough I love so much (hold the chocolate chips—I’m a purist). [I won’t make it when anyone’s home because (a) I don’t want to share and (b) I feel like an out-of-control binge eater when I eat it.]
One hundred percent of my non-family in-person social interactions are with Dunkin’ employees.
I read nine books in September. Which seems pathetic considering I read sixteen in August. (Only one so far in October…)
I have an obsession (unhealthy? arguable.) with Mr. Sexy Beach Guy. Although he may have a replacement soon…
Holy fuck. [Thank you, VK and PW.]
Oh, who am I kidding? I’m not replacing anyone. I’ll just keep both.
p.s. — Am I going to have to start ending every post with both guys? Damn. I mean, there’s no way I can choose. You can’t eat just one. So to speak.