Yours. Not mine. Because I’m fine. I just don’t have anything to write about. So if I were to actually write anything and you were to read that drivel, you too would be depressed and vaguely French.
Like, I could whine some more about how I’m unorganized and not doing well with the whole getting-ready-to-leave-for-weeks-in-a-few-days thing.
(I actually unpacked my suitcase. It was as I suspected- full of leftover National History Day programs. Which were quickly tossed to the side so that when my kids are cleaning this house after my parents shove off they’ll find thirty adorably color-coordinated programs and be all, “Mom? You had a lot of time on your hands didn’t you?” and I’ll be all, “HEY. I had a life before I married your father, God rest his soul.” Yes. In this fantasy my ridiculously old husband has passed away and I’m left with his millions. Mwahahaha.)
(You really needed to know that.)
In other trip-related news, I’ve purchased roughtly 482 sundresses because it’s going to be hot! In the south! And I need clothes! And…kind of didn’t think to buy anything else that I might actually need. So I did that today. And if you had been in the Grafton Target this afternoon, you would have gotten to witness to me wandering around with the most embarrassing collection of items imaginable until I FINALLY found my mom’s cart, dumped them under a t-shirt, and handed her my credit card because I don’t know what you’re talking about, I certainly am not purchasing those things I’m very engrossed in this US magazine over here.
Oh. Good times.
Or we could talk about how I’m really really tired because I didn’t get to nap today and, hey! Turns out I’m secretly a two-year-old and I REALLY NEED TO NAP. Because I’m tired. And cranky. And Criminal Minds is making me emotional.
Hell, we could talk about how A&E runs like four hours of Criminal Minds a night and I’ve watched damn close to four hours for the past few days and WOW that sucks I seriously need to get out more.
I get to go to out to work tomorrow. And meh. Don’t wanna. No one wants to buy books. And I don’t really want to sell them. And I’m a little bit insulted that the e-mail coupon offered EVERY FRIGGIN’ WEEKEND is the same as my employee discount. So I could get exactly the same benefits without having to fulfill porn orders before 10:00 in the morning.
Well. That was exciting.