I am exasperated. Nothing earth shattering, just irritated…generally irritated.
First off, I have the most annoying of annoying co-workers that I need to punch in his throat. The fantasy just isn’t cutting it anymore.
I want to eat carbs! I’m going to die if I don’t have a piece of bread today! If I have to have another fat free yogurt or a grilled chicken breast I’ll end up face down on the kitchen floor sobbing.
I finally love exercising. That scares and sickens me…
Every evening for the last four years (a coincidence, I think not) I’ve had a glass or two of wine. It’s become a boring habit. What other vice can I possibly replace the wine with? Cigarettes? Tried it, doesn’t work. Meth? Too vain. Sex? John couldn’t handle that much of me (wink)! Exercise? Already doing it. Whiskey? I’ll try it, but I’m not happy about it.
Just as I was getting to the stage of venom dripping from my keyboard, my family life crept in again in the form of my favorite son, Tristan. He came into the room and sat down right next to me with his laptop. I did move to the other side of the couch, but he had already cramped my style. Then there came John and he flipped on the tv to watch the game. I put my headphones on and tried to crawl back into the bitchy little cave I’d constructed. It didn’t work, couldn’t get my vibe back.
I have a feeling this mood is not over. Oh no, it is definitely is not over.