My Monday has been a complete bust. Last night, I was supposed to blog, but I was so exhausted, I skipped it, thinking that sleep would be the smarter, more responsible option. And it likely would have, had I actually slept.
Last night involved listening to a guided meditation, reading some of Augusten Burroughs’ latest book, Lust and Wonder, eating ice cream, reading Twitter, and not sleeping.
So, as you can imagine, I did not bounce out of bed this morning. Somehow, I got my child to daycare, and showed up at work only fifteen minutes late, albeit with bed hair and no makeup.
I downed coffee, feebly attempted to do some work, did my hair (thanks in no small part to Pinterest and Hannah from Pretty Little Liars), and ate a shitload of Fire Roasted Tomato Triscuits and Laughing Cow cheese.
(note: the word Triscuit looks really weird to me at the moment)
(further note: Given that Triscuits are just crackers, they have a hell of a website. I’m now envying a cracker website)
I had lunch with a friend, hobbled through the rest of my day, and then drove downtown through a deluge to meet another friend for a happy hour. I love thunderstorms, unless 1) I’m driving in them, and 2) I have no umbrella. Do not pass go. Do not collect $200.
By 7:30, I was already in bed. I’m here now. I want ice cream, which poses a problem, as it’s downstairs, and I will not be taking myself down there. Life is hard, you guys.
I did learn today that the more tired I am, the less I care about my inner critic telling me not to say things. I get really entertaining, because my “I don’t give a damn” meter just short-circuits itself and I lose my filters. With sleep comes maturity and professionalism, evidently.
Let’s end this by mourning the fact that I can’t find a single pair of tweezers anywhere, and my chin hair is running rampant. I’m a flower.
So, at this point, it’s probably for the best that I shut down my computer before things get any worse.