Last week I had a most wonderful and desirable vacation trip sans kid and dog to the beautiful island of St. Lucia.
HA! ...in my dreams.
And then there was a tornado and we had to take shelter and I had to carry my child out of the zip tent-like room, where he was getting soaking wet from rain, into the shelter room while he was still sleeping in his pack n' play. Then right before the storm hit, the mom of the daughter I was babysitting came home and said we needed to leave. Right then. During the storm.
Oy.
In a weird way it might be kind of like my life lately.
I must admit, while I may seem perfectly happy and hunky dory on the outside, on my inside there is a seriously turbulent storm going on.
Today is not the day for details of that.
Just know that home to me does not seem like home much at all anymore. Except for the house.
I'm not talking about my current home-home with my hubby and our baby and his puppy.
Moving on.
Literally, moving.
This is what my life has been for about 2 weeks now:
We're moving.
Can you tell?
I hope so. Because if I was really this messy I'd probably die and never come back.
Why yes, there are two pairs of heels on the ground because I can never decide what to wear to church until the last possible second before walking out the door.
Anyone who knows me should know that I really hate living in a messy home.
For more than 2 days.
It drives me crazy. Psycho. Insane.
And when my kitchen looks like this?
Chicken nuggets, pasta, cold cereal, and whatever else takes 2 minutes and 2 dishes or less to prepare.
Unless it includes chocolate.
If you've never played Puerto Rico, I highly recommend it.
Better yet, come over,
but not today, and we'll teach you how to play.
But beware, you will probably lose to Mr. Man because he is Puerto Rico extraordinaire.
I really hope your house looks like this when you move.
Please just nod your head and agree that it does.
It will make me feel better.
Knick Knacks.
Junk.
Clutter.
This shelf is a prime example of reason #428 Why I hate moving: the knick knacks that don't fit into any other category so they just sit there and clutter your counters and floors until you finally toss them all in a box to figure out later.
An old phone case, a lint roller, some glasses cleaner, sunscreen, and glow sticks? Seriously.
Can't I just throw it all away?
Instead of bravely attacking the filth, I am cowering in the corner of a clean table with my laptop, some ice cream, and a cup of water.
And just in case you didn't get the full effect of our lack of food,
Exhibit A:
Anyone have a recipe with soy sauce, apple juice, sour cream, and olives?
Nobody?
You may also be thinking "man, she really needs to clean her fridge!"
Well, it's true. I really do need to clean my fridge.
And my oven.
And my dishwasher.
And my microwave.
And my sink.
And my counters.
And my bathrooms.
And my whole apartment actually.
Would you like to help?
Instead of buckling down and getting to work, I decided to have a nice, big, bowl of this:
I feel better now.
And see this?
My pre-lunch snack.
A from-scratch, fudgy, chocolately brownie, chock-full of chopped oreos, layered with peanut butter then a marshmallow fluff/peanut butter icing.
Rich, heavenly, chocolate in your mouth.
And finally, because of those sinful indulgences, I've been doing lots, and lots of this:
One day Mr. Man unexpectedly surprised me with some sweet running shorts.
But since I can't pay full price for anything, we shopped around later that day and found these "on sale" (mis-marked and price honored).
Amen. Hallelujah. I love running shorts.
I logged 17.9 miles last week, 6.5 of which were while out of town, I'm proud of myself.
Now if I can just learn how to eat like a runner, we might start making progress...
Please enjoy your Monday, everyone.
And be completely, utterly, unmistakably, proud of me for pictating and blogging my disaster of a life.
I think I need a nap.
