Sometimes I get down on myself

Well, all the time, to be honest. But yesterday I caught a real life glimpse of myself and my double chin. It hasn’t been a secret to me that I have been gaining an unreal amount of weight. I have probably gained around 20 pounds since my wedding 2 and half years ago, I feel like my diet and exercise routine (which is zero exercise) have been consistent so  I can only blame the change on my metabolism changing as I age. Truthfully I eat more bread and drink more beer in Chicago than I ever have before, but I don’t easily take responsibility for my life so we will pretend I didn’t say that.

About once every two months I convince myself that it is time to start eating healthier and reduce my portions and drink less alcohol. I am semi-succesfull for 6 days, tops. I have no plan, I have no idea what I am doing, I have no idea what is healthy for me. Not to mention my husband is hands-down a meat and potatoes kind of guy. I have never consumed so much white rice in my life, he loves it and needs it in every meal. I understand that meat and potatoes doesn’t translate to rice, but its white and starchy and adds no nutritional value to my diet, same shit, right?

We are getting ready to move back to California for the next chapter, and I can’t go back looking like the moving truck that got us there. Self-Deprecation is not cute, but it’s a defense mechanism that I am well aware of, if I saw it first than I can’t be hurt. I always tell my friends that if they are aware of the thing they do that hurt them then they have no excuse not to fix them, so its my turn to practice what I preach. I hurt because I am unhappy with the way I look, it is time to take control. I don’t want to make fun of myself to make myself feel normal, it isn’t healthy.

I went to sleep last night with a stomach full of meatballs, bread, and wine. I was happy in the moment eating them but have a food and wine hangover this morning as I write this. I decided this morning that I need to change and I need guidance that I am not going to get from anyone, but myself and a few books. I ordered a Whole30 cookbook and Whole30 Day-by-Day journal today to guide me through my healthy lifestyle change. I understand the concept of Whole30 and food that are acceptable on the diet, I just can’t stay motivated or keep up with it. I am not creative in the kitchen and can’t make chicken breast and roasted broccoli every night and think that it is sustainable.

I plan to start a real Whole30 and stick to it once my books arrive.  I am very excited and proud of myself that I took a step closer to getting real about my health. Part of the journey is accountability, so I wanted to stop by here and put it in writing that I plan to begin this journey. Maybe some of you can help me out or give me recommendations for this opportunity!



I guess it’s not all about me…

Yesterday my middle sister welcomed her second beautiful baby girl into the world. I am beside myself with joy for her and her growing family. They already have a four year old daughter, who is the greatest niece in the world and I can’t wait to watch her crush her role of big sister. The only problem there is when it comes to me watching her blossom, I am currently living two thousand miles away. While yesterday was an incredibly happy moment for my family, it was also very lonely for me over here in Chicago. I felt like my heart was expanding and exploding all at the same time.

I am the oldest of three girls. My middle sister, however, was the first one to have kids. The timing couldn’t have been worse, she wasn’t ready to be a mom and my husband (boyfriend at the time) and I had just announced that we were moving across the country after I graduated college. I was the first person my sister called to break the news, I remember it like it was yesterday. We both cried and talked about her plan of attack when approaching my parents with the news. I drank a bottle and half of wine that night and smoked half a pack of cigarettes on my patio while roommate let me cry it out.

My sister had a hard time getting on her feet, she was finally doing well in culinary school, she was working, she had her eye on the prize. It was hard for me to hear that this was going to be on pause, we didn’t know her future with her boyfriend, we knew my parents would take it hard, and I KNEW THAT I WAS LEAVING THE STATE! So I cried that night for her uncertainty on this journey she was about to embark on and I cried, because I knew that I might miss the birth of my first niece. I am still sad often that I am missing the first five years of her life. Thankfully, due to modern technology, it has been easy to get to know her and talk to her and be a part of her life everyday even though we are miles apart.

So, fast forward four years after my move, I am getting a million “I have to FaceTime you texts!” from my sister and to my surprise, another pregnancy announcement was heading my way. This time I cried because I was overjoyed for her and her boyfriend. I was so happy that my niece was going to be a big sister. I was overwhelmed with how happy my sister was, that was the best part. They couldn’t wait to grow their little family. But in the middle of that, I was also crying, because I was going to miss the birth of my next niece.

I have always considered myself to be a little self-absorbed, but I had a wake up call last night as I was reflecting on this experience. What did any of this really have to do with me? Why was I crying more than my sister when she was got pregnant? Wait…why was I crying more than my sister the second time she got pregnant? Why did I think that the world stopped for me while I was gone? And, in addition to that, you wouldn’t even imagine how into myself I was yesterday while this was going down…

My sister sent a text to the family around 5 am, “Today might be the day, but don’t get too excited.” I read it and lost all focus at work. It was all I could think about or talk about, I was so excited for this to happen. But that’s not the selfish part, the selfish part comes in to play 5 hours later when she’s on her way to the hospital and all I can talk about is how I am sad I won’t be there. DUH! Everyone knows I am going to be sad I won’t be there, but saying it over and over puts my family members in a position to acknowledge my feelings instead of focusing on my sister WHO IS IN LABOR.

As the day progressed I found myself wanting to talk about other things, like This is Us and how sad I was watching it, I wanted to talk about not being there more, I wanted to complain about needing to do my taxes, I wanted them to text me more about what was going on in the hospital room. I was started to get mad at them for leaving me out and I felt like I was breathing under water trying to keep from talking about myself at the same time. What is wrong with me? My sister FaceTimed me and I caught myself repeating “I am so sad that I am not there!” Obviously she’s sad I am not there, too, but it is about her! I noticed it was my instinct to type out “she’s beautiful, so happy for you guys, I’m so sad I missed it!” on her social media pictures. It was painful to stop myself at happy for you guys and I can’t figure out why.

I’m neither that confident nor interesting so I am not sure what my obsession with myself is, but man is it a problem. Are these feelings normal? Does anyone else make it about themselves? Do people perceive my actions as self-absorbed or am I reading way too much into this? If I was reading too much into it, it would make sense because it would make me pretty full of myself to think people are overanalyzing my comments.

Anyways, my sister had a great, easy labor to a BEAUTIFUL AND PERFECT baby girl. The family is doing great and they couldn’t be happier. My oldest niece is proudly yet nervously taking on the role of older sister and it is the sweetest thing. I am very grateful and happy for my sister and her (now) husband and their two beautiful and healthy daughters.

I am aware that I am into myself, and on that note…I’m still feeling bad for myself for not being with them.



This is not a hot sex story.

They sat silently in their apartment, both half watching TV and half engrossed in their phones. He went into the kitchen to check on dinner, then made his way to the window where he proceeded to close it and draw the blinds. She knew what was coming next. “We’ve got a little time before dinner is ready, you wanna…” He motioned towards the bed without coming near her or actually using the word “sex.” He never did. He always asked as if it were a bad word.


She quickly thought about how long it had been since the last time they had sex and muttered “sure,” unenthusiastically in return. He threw his clothes off and sat eagerly on the bed waiting for her. She stood slowly and took her clothes off of herself uncomfortably while he just watched and waited. He pulled her into him and began to kiss her, moving back slowly as he did so, prompting her to move with him and on top of him. They began to kiss, passionately; this was her favorite part of foreplay, the initial connection. It usually started with her wishing that he had taken charge, initiated more romantically, seemed interested in getting her going first, but that being said, she wasn’t initiating it either so she didn’t want to ask for too much.


“Rub your hands down my body.” He whispered into her ear, leaving a trail of kisses back to her lips. He reached his arms over his head and laid out, enjoying each touch and eagerly waiting the next movement. A sigh would escape his lips occasionally, encouragement for her to keep going. Watching him take pleasure in the way she touched his body brought her more confidence, she kissed and stroked with growing authority. She reached down between their bodies to touch him more intimately to which he barked “no!” without explanation. His tense body relaxed quickly as he laid his head back down waiting for her to continue.


She felt embarrassed and confused though. She struggled to kiss his chest and lowered herself further to mask what she thought might be tears coming. She tried to breathe deeply to fight them off. Why would he bark at me? She kept asking herself obsessively, unable to focus on anything else. He gently pushed her head down to where he wanted it be, it was the first time he had touched her in minutes. Reluctantly and unexcitedly she took him into her mouth. “Look at me,” he demanded.


She shook her head ‘no’. It was a little too porn star for the mood she was in. he said it again, “Please baby, look at me while you’re doing that.” Her frustration grew. She ignored the request and continued. But couldn’t help but wonder if he even enjoyed it since she wasn’t listening. “Babe, please.” He repeated for a third time.


She stopped and looked right into his eyes, “No.” For lack of wanting to kiss him on the lips again, she took her time making her way back to his mouth. When their lips found each other again, he flipped her over and went right down to between her legs. “No, it’s okay, I am not in the mood for that.” She ran her fingers through his hair and rubbed his back, trying to pull him back up to her. He resisted and instead decided to kiss her thighs and around her sex to convince her that she wanted more.

She sighed out of frustration. She couldn’t even think about what he was doing, because she wished they were touching and kissing and not forcing this to happen. He dipped between her legs again, she tensed; he mistook this action for pleasure. “See, I thought you said you weren’t in the mood.” He smiled and it upset her.


“I’m not, you can stop now.” She pulled him back. He pecked her lips a few more times before reaching for a condom. He struggled to put it on and by the time he had it, he had lost his erection. He tried to enter her a few times before giving up, then angrily got off the bed and left the room, leaving her there naked by herself without explanation.


She didn’t move. She waited for him to comeback before she began to redress. He pulled her back onto the bed and laid his head on her chest. “I want sex to be better. I want to feel like you’re into it.” He expressed. “I don’t know what to do, because I am the only one who ever initiates.”


In her head she was getting angrier with each word. She wouldn’t consider pointing to the bed while closing the blinds initiating. She wouldn’t consider watching her undress herself while he sits and waits initiating. She wouldn’t think that yelling “no” at her without explanation leads to good sex. She didn’t believe that needing to tell your partner “no” multiple times to the same sex act during foreplay would lead to good sex. “Well you barked at me and embarrassed the hell out of me and then asked me multiple times to do something I had already said ‘no’ to. I don’t know what you want you want from me.”


“I knew the second I asked you to look at me it was over.” He griped.


“Why did you ask two more times after that then?”


“I don’t know. I just want this to be more fun. I want our sex life to be better. Don’t you? I want to talk about what we like and want more.”


Communication and understanding is what he wanted? This confused her. She had been yelled at and she had told him no more times than she should have to different things. What wasn’t she communicating? She had listened to his “no,” maybe if he had listened to hers she would have been a little more free and comfortable to enjoy sex. However, instead of saying that to him, she mumbled, “Yeah, I want it to be better.” And stared at the ceiling as he rolled off the bed and out of the room. Her chest grew tight and she felt tears coming.


Sex shouldn’t feel this way.

Cold Hearted

Sometimes I wonder if people can tell that I am not listening to them. This has always been a downfall of mine, but lately, I have noticed that I am not even aware that I am doing it until they’re done speaking. I usually nod in and out of the conversation, fully aware that I am daydreaming about other things, but I found myself zoning out just to think about nothing. The typical setting for a zone out would be a work meeting or a conversation involving multiple people, there is no harm really if I am not listening or participating, because its highly likely that there is someone else paying attention. Last week, I found myself staring blankly at a wall while my friend talked to me about coffee. I knew he was speaking directly to me, we were the only two people there, but all I was concentrating on was an empty spot on the wall behind him hoping he’d stop talking soon. I couldn’t keep my brain focused on what he wanted to say. I do it while people are venting to me, sometimes the things that people let ruin their day are so insignificant to me that I can’t actually hear what they’re saying. They can vent and complain and want me to empathize and I can’t do it, mostly because I don’t always agree, but also because I probably missed a few key points in their rant. My husband often comes home from work and dump a days worth or work complain on me daily, but the problem with this is often he complains about the same thing, there is only so much I can add every night to comfort him so I occasionally just stare at him until his lips stop moving.


I get it, this is fucked up. Everyone read those last few sentences and thought to themselves Wow, what a bitch. For the most part I am comfortable with that, because there will be a handful of people who will read that and understand completely what I am talking about, and those are my people. I would like to clarify that I understand that venting, complaining, decompressing at the end of the night, etc., is not about me. I know that my coworkers, friends and even my husband who are upset are not venting specifically to me because they need my wisdom and knowledge to fix their problems. They are venting, because that is how people cope. They need to let it all out so that they can feel better and move on. I suppose that is what the phrase “taking a load off” refers to. Sometimes all they need is for someone to say, “Yeah, I understand,” back to them, even if maybe they don’t understand. This allows people to build up, let out, move on and be happy/content or whatever. Human connection is crucial, I guess being a good listener or having someone to go to is a part of that. Personally, I don’t think I have ever craved that. There is something off in my wiring.


Despite what I am actually saying, I don’t mind that people see me as someone they can open up to. A majority of the time, I do empathize well and I am good at listening. I struggle when it’s repetitive. I don’t care that you had the same issue performing a task a work, I don’t care that you are having the same fight with one of your friends that I personally feel like you caused, and I don’t care that you are miserable at your second job, nobody has forced you to be there. The problem with listening and empathizing is that you become the person who has a lot of friends that you have to say shit like “I am sorry, I know you are going through a lot right now,” to, and I hate that so much. I feel like my life and the circle of people I’ve surrounded myself with are just a lot of people who have one thing after the other happening to them.

I am being critical, however, very critical. I know that having friends means you have someone there to lean on and confide in and turn to when things are going wrong. But I have never been one to open up like that, my whole life. I am not hard, but I was never a crier growing up, I never needed to lean on my parents for strong emotional support or guidance, I had a few close friends with whom I had a great time with and shared everything with, I never had boyfriends in high school, because what was the point? I didn’t have drama in my life. End of story. My cool girl mind set has left me stubborn and closed off, which is probably why I think everyone’s problems don’t matter. I don’t like to bother people with my problems. If I am struggling I silently suffer for a while until I explode or break down and then I move on. I don’t let people in or let my guard down (perhaps the same thing?), I don’t try to connect with anyone or make plans. I overthink it, what if the plans I make are boring? What if they will think my problems are stupid? What if my ideas get shot down? What if my husband doesn’t want to do the things I find interesting? I just sit around and wait for things to happen for me so I never have to feel embarrassed or shot down, and if they don’t happen, then, whatever.


The hurry up and wait isn’t working anymore. Let’s circle back to tuning the people I care about out. I don’t want to be that person anymore. I don’t want to be stubborn, or cold, or semi-present. I want to be fully present. That being said I would like to learn how to thoughtfully let people know that it is draining for me to listen to their habitual complaints, is that possible? I want to be there, but not all of the time for the same thing, is that a thing? That might sound like I want to filter what my friends talk to me about, but all I mean is that if I am listening to the same thing for a week straight I should learn to let them know that what they’re harping on isn’t healthy. I want to learn how to take my guard down and let other people in and share how I feel. I’d like the learn how to vent and communicate in a healthy way, so that I am not bottled up and closed off. Ultimately, I want to have good intentions with my relationships, I want to be more emotionally open and available and honest with the people I consider my close friends. I am not doing myself any favors by tuning out and not being present.


Where do I even start? How?

No Fun January

This month my body is craving a reset. I am not a resolution type of person, as you know from my last post when I posted once a year just to do it, but I have a January goal of letting myself rest and while doing so I am learning that I don’t have to accept every social invitation to go out. From the week before Thanksgiving until a couple of day after New Years I was a wild woman. By wild woman I simply mean BUSY. My in-laws came into town for Thanksgiving, spent the whole week, and from then on I continued to go out and celebrate the holidays. I went to bars, I went to parties, I went out to eat, I had my best friend come visit, I flew home to California for one night to watch my sister’s surprise wedding (more on that another time), I worked a lot of four AM shifts let I didn’t let myself get enough sleep for the night before, and I drank more than body could handle. I HAD A GREAT TIME. But I am little too old for that, I think.

By the time that Christmas came around I got sick. I had that weird flu/cold thing that everyone seems to be suffering from and it took me until yesterday (TWO WEEKS!!!) to finally feel somewhat normal. I wish I could say that I took it easy for those two weeks, but it was Christmas and New Years, I still ate and drank and would rest up just to go out during that time. So physically, I feel like absolute shit. I hadn’t seen a proper vegetable on my plate in a month, probably had had a banana here or there, but my diet had been heavy meats, snacks, and bread for the last portion of 2017. I had barely slept five hours a night consistently for that month, let alone eight hours, which is problematic for someone who works four to five times a week well before the sun comes up.

In addition to the neglect my body has been feeling, it’s been so fucking cold in Chicago. I spent last winter here and never felt this cold, everyone told me it was a mild winter last year and I thought they were being dramatic, I was so wrong. I have never been more wrong. We went two weeks straight just living in the negative temperatures with wind chill. The exposed parts of my skin for short walks would burn and feel like they’d crack off of my body. I get it now, I am so very sorry to anyone I doubted about the cold in Chicago. But, never being this cold IN MY LIFE didn’t increase my chances of feeling better. And for those of you rolling their eyes, even native Chicagoans are complaining, most of them are doing so more than I am.


So let’s do some math….


Carbs+Fat+Alcohol+Sugar+Red Meat+Sleep Deprivation+Early Mornings+Late Nights+Severe Cold Weather+Flu Like Symptoms X Five long holiday weeks=FUCKING MISERABLE. Like, fucking miserable.


Alright, so now that we have the physical aspect of my misery covered, let’s move on to the social/mental aspect of my misery. I won’t include anymore math equations, promise. I am a bit of an introvert who is dying to be an extrovert, but always remembers that she doesn’t actually want to be an extrovert when it’s all over. I am the first person to admit that if I spent a month alone on my couch passing the time alone I would thrive. I love deep cleaning my apartment, I love listening to music I want to listen to, I love watching whatever I want to watch, I love eating whatever I want to eat, etc. It’s amazing that I am married for the amount of selfish thoughts I actually have. Conversely, I am also the first one to accept an invitation to get a drink or attend some sort of social gathering. Extrovert me suffers from severe FOMO. But once extrovert me comes home at night a little drunk and a little full with a little less money in her account she feels terrible. I spent this month enjoying the hell out of the people I have formed close relationships to here and it was the perfect holiday season, but along with that came a lot of mental burden. I listened to a lot of people complain about a lot of things and gossip about a lot of things that just don’t matter, myself included. I just feel exhausted and overwhelmed at this point. I don’t want to spend anymore money, I don’t want to drink anymore, I don’t want to gossip about the people that care about me and regret it later, I don’t want to wake up the next morning and panic about whether or not I should feel embarrassed for how loud I may have been at the bar last night. I just want to feel good.

That leads me to No Fun January, which sounds negative, but I think it’ll be just what I need. In No Fun January, I politely decline social invitations, I meal prep, I don’t go out to eat, I save money, and I sleep enough. Chase and I are going to New Orleans at the end of No Fun January and I want to feel alive and alert and healthy while we are there are not tired and miserable. We haven’t been on a real vacation in over five years and I want it to be perfect.

My goal for January (since I am not a resolution person) is to complete twenty-one days of no added sugar or refined carbs, to not drink any alcohol, to learn to say “no” when asked to go out, and to let my body REST. Twenty-one days started yesterday, I am hoping this post holds me accountable.


It isn’t like posting has ever held me accountable before though…

Annual resolution post…

It’s about time for my once a year New Year’s post. I figured I would get a jump on it a little early this year. Previously, I have made goals for myself that I have not achieved, 2017 was no different. I never figured out who I was or found a hobby or even tried to contemplate what I bring to the table. I wanted to focus more on writing and really have a head start in pursuing that, which I also didn’t do.

I have lived in three different states the over the last seven years and I am never quite sure when I will be leaving each state. I have let this looming unknown dictate how I run my life. I have passed up promotions, friendships, vacations, etc., because I am never sure how permanent my situation will be. Recently, like yesterday recently, I learned that my husband has been doing the same thing. He doesn’t want to start anything too long term in the states that we have been in, because they aren’t our home. Hearing him say this out loud initially upset me, but I realized I had been doing the same thing. I have even told people that ask me why I haven’t moved up in the company I work for that it is because I am waiting until we move home. Well, in 2018 we will be moving back “home”. We will be surrounded by our family again and trying to lay roots of our own, finally. Travelling has been incredible and I have learned a lot, but it will be nice to make a little more money and maybe go on some vacations, oh yeah, and achieve previous goals I have set. I have been setting goals for myself that I somehow knew I would not reach, because deep down I wasn’t ready to start pursuing them. That being said, I will not be setting any work or hobby related goals for myself this year. I just always end up disappointed this time of year.

Now, to take a complete one-eighty from work, I would like my goal this year to be to find out what body positivity means to me.

I hate myself. I get depressed every time I see a candid picture, getting dressed in the morning is a struggle, I am fully aware at all times of the food I am putting in my mouth and how it will negatively affect my waistline. The anxiety of obsessing over my meals and what is healthy and what isn’t healthy is becoming an all-consuming constant in my life and I would like to murder that obsession and throw into a lake.

I joined a gym a little over a year ago and Chase and I really threw ourselves into it, we had a great routine that lasted about a month and half. Then Chase hurt his back and I had no motivation to go on my own. I started to work at a new location while all of this was going on and my walk to work went from five minutes to over two miles there and back each day, which I was considering a perk since it totaled over thirty minutes of walking. Somewhere along the way I began to confuse my stroll to work with real exercise and treated my diet that way as well.

At the same time, I tried to embrace body positivity, which I don’t fully understand, and I challenged myself for a week to put on an outfit and leave it on, no matter what rolls were showing. This was liberating. It was the easiest week I had in a while. I threw clothes on, smiled at myself, ate what I felt like, and went on about my day. I liked it so much that I extended my weeklong trial into almost a month, until I realized that I was gaining weight. I was heavier than I was when I started and my clothes were starting to look less flattering than they were before. I noticed new rolls on my stomach that hadn’t been there two months before. This sent me over the edge. I started stressing about my outfits again and I couldn’t stop constantly thinking about AND eating food. I haven’t been able to recover.

So this year, I want to work on a healthy relationship with food, I want to stop OBSESSING, and most importantly I want to learn to love my body. I understand that being body positive doesn’t mean you just let yourself go and love it anyways, it means loving yourself enough to nourish it and take care of it, with some wiggle room. Well, actually as I stated before I don’t understand body positivity at all, but I am going to learn.  I assume it also means when you slip up and cant get it together you don’t shame yourself, you allow yourself the slip up and learn from it. I don’t know. I hope that I am not the only one who doesn’t get it.


Goodbye 2017, overall you were great, but I need a real health check for 2018.

(maybe a little minor goal will be to close out blog posts better…)


Tears for my Toilet.

Today I woke up and had a feeling it was going to be a bad day and from that moment on, it was. My husband just got a job that calls for a very late clock out time, which means he gets home late (or early depending on how you look at it) and needs to sleep in a little later than I would like to. In a normal world, this isn’t an issue, but in OUR world we live in a tiny studio. So, if he needs to sleep late then I need to sleep late or be quiet. This is hard for me.  I have to be at work anywhere between four and six in the morning, usually, so on my days off I’m up early.  The later I sleep in, the harder it is for me to go to sleep at a reasonable hour for such an early shift. He only works these late nights four days a week and I will usually work on the days he needs to sleep in, which is perfect for everyone, but the few days a month that I’ll want to get up and start my day when he needs to sleep in are going to be hard for me. TRUST ME, I am know I sound like a whiney bitch, but I love my mornings.

So today was day only day one (which makes me look even worse for ranting ALREADY, I KNOW!) and it was hard for me to adjust. He didn’t wake up until 10:30 and I would have achieved so much on a morning off alone by that time. So by the time he left for work I felt out of control and behind on my day off and ended up sitting on my couch for the entire day…like, the entire day. I let my dishes soak in the sink for hours, my lunch plate, complete with crumbs and dirty napkin, sat in front of me for at least two episodes of Quantico, and I never even bothered to change out of what I had slept in the night before. Man, what a sad series of words to lump together.

Being in a funk aside, the tank to my toilet decided to stop filling. I’m big on watching youtube videos to solve all of my apartment needs and it works 100 percent of the time, until today. Chase was home still to see me fix the problem this afternoon, we were both impressed with it. A few hours later, the problem arose again, and this time the previous solution didn’t work. So, I’ve spent my lazy miserable day filling a stock pot with water to slowly fill the toilet tank in order to flush it. Hopefully the maintenance manager of the apartment gets back to me soon, I think I may lose my mind. In the middle of filling the tank I had a mental break down and called my parents to walk me through fixing it, they were no help, but their laughter at my tears of frustration helped me to calm down. I guess they helped.

Our studio had a refrigerator that is smaller than your average, it fits enough, but not a lot. It is an art to arrange everything in a way that makes it all fit well together. I bet you’d never guess that one of the shelves completely snapped and everything that was housed on the shelf came crashing down to the floor. The only casualty was one sad bottle of hot sauce, but man what a shit show. I have to go shopping tomorrow now for some sort of containers to organize my fridge racks now, because a million random bottles of condiments are thrown all over it and its not working out. The heavier things on the racks make them bend a little, so everything narrow and longer, like a beer bottle or hot sauce bottle, tip over easily. This, in reality is also not a big fucking deal.

The reality is, I should be thankful that I have an apartment at all, a husband who works hard at undesirable hours to take care of us, a toilet, running water, and food. I am aware of this. But shiiiit, I need to vent sometimes and that is also okay. I was a lazy sad mess today for no real reason. I am convinced that it is because I woke up expecting it to be a bad day. Tomorrow I HAVE to wake up on the right side of the bed, I’ve got too much shit to do to make up for the lack of anything that I did today.

*kanye shrug.