- Being a solo practitioner is kicking my ass. Every. Single. Day.
- Nothing I do feels like enough.
- Nowadays, I could easily be asleep by 9/9:30. I force myself to stay awake later than I want to be just to prove to myself that I’m not old.
- I am not ready for Christmas, like haven’t bought a single gift, and have no desire to give or receive gifts.
- I’m not depressed, just exhausted.
- I’m finding that I’m short tempered recently. I was talking to some colleagues today, and when asked how I was doing, I responded, “Everything annoys me.”
- Next I’ll be telling kids to get off my lawn.
- I just want it to be Saturday, please.
Some random new follower on instagram has been commenting on all my pics about how attractive they find me, and this morning posted an actual love poem on one of my posts. I am not sure how to respond to that. I don’t want to be rude, but I’m def a bit uncomfortable at this point.
Can I just say thank you and leave it at that? Is it better to say nothing?
Oh here’s the poem:
Woke up at 5:58 am.
Sick dog shitting all over the place.
Grumpy, sleep deprived husband was up all night dealing with sick dog. Left him at home with the dog. (He was able to take a nap, thankfully).
Dropped the kids off at school.
Hauled ass to crim court in Clayton. My client didn’t bother to show up. Fun times.
Met with a couple of crazy ass motherfuckers at the office. I’m too tired to go into the details, but it was a whole fucking ordeal. I’m tired of dealing with legit crazy people all the fucking time.
More court. City muni this time. In the waiting room, I was forced to interact with this creeper who tried to bang me like 9 years ago. He told me a bunch of bad jokes. It was awkward.
Back to the office for more client interactions. The afternoon batch wasn’t too bad.
Left around 4:30 to do kid pick-ups. Finally got home around 6:15 pm. I go from the city to Chesterfield to Saint Peters to O’Fallon and seriously fuuuuuuuuck me, dude.
Almost cried with relief when I finally took off my shoes. Fashion means pain sometimes.
Started working again at 6:30. I worked at the kitchen bar while D cooked.
Back to work until a little after nine.
Used the pet stain vac to clean up Bismarck’s mess. Ugh.
Not sure how I feel about it yet. The characters are weird.
Stopped in the middle of the show to dig Freya’s phone out of the fucking toilet. Sigh.
And now we are in bed. Fucking finally.
Good night. My alarm will go off in six hours.
My lovely husband made me the chicken parm I’ve been craving, because he’s the best.
It was so good, and prepared in such a way that it was relatively low calorie.
This is the only thing I ate all day, so I’m still below my calorie limit, and everything has been logged. Day one in the books!
And there are leftovers packed and ready to go for lunch tomorrow.
Tomorrow’s mini goal: drink more water!!
is pulling your step-daughter’s urine drenched phone out of the toilet after she accidentally knocks it in and starts having a full on panic attack.
Oh and not even getting a thank you in return.
Are often like this:
I got it sorted for him via text in less than five minutes.
It’s gonna be that kind of day.
My suspicions were confirmed.
Back to calorie counting.
I’m at my NOPE weight.
I’ve gotta get my shit together.
I’m going to start by going to sleep.
I feel like my head is going to explode.
I spent the morning by the fire. Reading, of course.