Can you resist the siren song of using poop in a title or an image of poop as a weapon? I can't. What a world. What a world.
It's a good thing vacation is worth it, because the prep going into it and dealing with the cyclone coming out of it is a bitch. Yesterday I worked from home to concentrate on a lot of writing I had to do and knocked that out like a boss, even though it took me until 11 pm. With two more hours in my day because of the lack of commute and the ability to do a quick task on my way to or from the bathroom, I was able to get my house back in order, which was no small feat given the destruction on each level in every room. It's like we returned from vacation and vomited all over our own house with our own things.
Some things are still out of place as always - I don't have the fire within me to finish the basement purge and reorganization right now, so things are still going down there to sit and collect dust - but I do feel like things have been set pretty much to rights.
What needs to go back to the shore is packed up and in the basement ready to be loaded into cars, including my new beach chair, and the cluttered dining room table from hell was mostly cleared.
New sheets are on the bed, and that's the only place I am okay with pattern mixing. Five loads of laundry were done and some was put away. This is not dream life, this is real life. In dream life all the laundry is put away immediately, no one is a fucking asshole, everyone has more than enough of what they need, you can eat what you want and never gain too much weight, no one puts the toilet paper on so it pulls from underneath, we're all equal, you can always find the shoes you want in your size, there's no litter, and dogs never pee or poop inside.
A vat of iced coffee is turning itself into magic in the fridge, a fresh pitcher of mint green iced tea was made,
power breakfast muffins were made and frozen, and
mexican stuffed shells were made and half frozen. The ones with cheese are dinner tomorrow.
My reusable bags have made their way back to my trunk after a big Target re-stocking trip and I returned shoes to Famous Footwear that I kept forgetting to return. Hey Target, why the F would you sell a light up Hangry sign? It is a state of being that is frankly dangerous for the people in its line of fire. No one is safe. Bring food.
Geege got his pre-dental bloodwork done at the vet and my furry coworkers got a shit ton of attention.
I used the sassy oven mitts I picked up on vacation and put some of my treasures in my living room shell jar. I like looking at my various shell spots and knowing they're from so many different places.
And I displayed a little art card I picked up on vacation. My God does not care what you look like outside but my God does care what you look like inside and my God don't like ugly.
We're heading to the shore tonight, and I feel a lot better about my life getting my poop in a pile at home and work. I hope you're heading into the weekend feeling good about where you are today. If you're not, there's always tomorrow.
Toodleoo and TGIF, mofos. And happy birthday to my friend Mr. Chris.
