I was unbelievably, astoundingly, amazingly productive on Saturday and then proceeded to get zero sleep.
My husband left me. He went camping.
Sunday he was back and I got a few things done but really nothing in comparison to Saturday.
Do you think there’s a connection?
I kept the Harry Potter marathon on television (ABC Family for the win what is UP with that new name?) all day Saturday until they sent me to my private hell by ending it two movies short. WHO DOES THAT?
So Sunday they played it again and I thought…I should watch it again. Because I might have missed something before.
I just got back from the post office where I sent something overnight. I didn’t want to stand in a line of 30 people because I have things to do before noon and that’s how long the line at the post office always takes it’s excruciating. I’ve nearly died of starvation standing in that line.
So I used the machine which I use ALL the time and frankly I have a relationship with it. He never fails me. He’s there at any hour of the night, and he’s faithful. And he speaks to me with kindness, never is rude or disrespectful or even short with me. Always polite, please and thank you. What every woman is looking for, what more could I ask?
I then have to go to the dreaded…person…to drop it off.
Can someone please explain to me how I can meekly and nervously and politely approach what appears to be a nice woman (appearances are deceiving) and EVERY SINGLE TIME they manage to make me feel this big…
and this stupid…
AND DO IT AS LOUD AS SHE POSSIBLY CAN AND AS CONDESCENDING AS SHE POSSIBLY CAN TO ENSURE MAXIMUM DAMAGE TO MY SELF ESTEEM?
I love that. I just love it. Every freaking time. I don’t know why but I always hear them REAM someone at the post office and I always feel so bad because you know you’re time is coming. I knew my time was here when I realized I’d have to hand them my envelope and I’d put something on the front that would mess with their perfect display of how an envelope should look.
Have you ever noticed there are people mailing the jankiest worst boxes EVER with fourteen different types of tape and a million different words and sharpie all over it and it’s a royal mess and somehow…THAT gets accepted. But God forbid you put a label on the envelope…
THAT DOESN’T GO THERE>
And then I get five minutes of what I should have done, why I did it wrong, what I can do better next time and DO YOU UNDERSTAND NOW?
I think they go to special “learn how to be mean” school.
I bet you’re thinking right now…when is she going to be done ranting about THIS!
So this morning…I woke up and my Achilles didn’t hurt. Which makes DAY FIVE DAY FIVE DAY FIVE>
Ladies and Gentlemen (do any men actually read this
drivel super interesting can’t live without me blog? Yeah, you know my husband does. Cause he likes me. Hey Baby), I do believe it’s time to declare I may be possibly thinking about kinda sorta …healing.
As you can tell, I’m a confident person.
If you declare it too early..the Achilles will hear you and be injured again. So you have to be respectful.
This morning I’m going to foam roll and triggerpoint and do some stretches to loosen me up.
I heard that. **way too many jokes were just said…Ya’ll have too much time on your hands***
Hopefully I can …. do that thing that we all like to do but we aren’t saying it out loud because the Achilles may hear us. But you know what it is…
MT has decided he needs to improve his physical fitness in preparation for the Marines in June. He leaves June 6th. So he’s been waking up at 4am (I wonder how long that will last?) and yesterday he bought new running shoes (Brooks Pure Cadence) and a new Garmin (because I suggested it would be a good training tool and also, I love it).
This morning he hit the streets to see where he was at.
Before I tell you how he did let me remind you he works at Discount Tires. He spends his days lifting and throwing tires around and then…squatting to put the tires on. All day long. Constantly. He’s lost twenty pounds since he started there a few months ago.
Now…he NEVER runs, he says he doesn’t like it. But out the door he went and did three miles in 26 minutes (and change). He said it was really hard. He had to stop once for a stop light I think.
It’s okay. His punishment is coming. He has to sleep sometime. Cocky bastard.