50c corn dogs in Your Face

So many packages to open yesterday. So much stuff I really don’t need to spend money on. BUT I LOVE SPENDING MONEY.

Yesterday dragged it’s ass HARD. I had a seriously difficult time mustering energy for anything - it even took me an hour and a half before I bothered to open my packages, and even then it was more of a survival thing - I needed the space on my desk and I also needed to unwrap and squirrel everything away in my backpack so M didn’t see it and rag at me for buying junk.

My ears and eyes have been so effing itchy lately. Like seasonal allergies, but I have no idea what could possibly be setting me off right now.

M bought a 12-serve frozen lasagne yesterday, which I had vetoed in several previous discussions. I mean, I wasn’t mad about it, just found it funny that he wanted it so bad that he gathered up his testicles and made a trip to the supermarket without me, just so he could buy it. So, last night’s dinner was lasagne.

Tracy bought me a box of chocolates in a heart-shaped red velvet box. Which is basically the epitome of valentines gifts to me. M got me lasagne, evidently. We don’t do anything for valentines day.

Got home from work, put on pyjama pants and then M remembered that we hadn’t been to Albertsons to get a couple of items. DANG IT. We both reluctantly pulled our pants and boots back on and took a walk over there. Dinner was lasagne (duh) and salad.

I did a ton of transcription and John had a nightmare amount of voicemails to transcribe. I need to help him with some online filings too, he’s sending me details on that today.

I have a lot to do for Tracy, but I’m feeling like it’s all too hard. Everything is half done and waiting on stuff from clients or from her or whatever. So I get that feeling of, “Why bother?” Anything I do today won’t get resolved this week and I’ll just have to redo it at a later date.

I am actively trying to clear my desk at Tracy’s today. It’s a mess, and it’s dusty and gross. It’s a black glass top, which I hate, but which also shows up every speck of dust or coffee dribble. It’s the worst. And it’s time. IT IS TIME.

My uterus eruption seems to be slowing up. I read once that the average menstrual period yields only a few tablespoons of blood. I can hear you ladies out there scoffing. A few tablespoons. Right. So that’s why we go through dozens of super-absorbent feminine hygiene products, right? That’s why we need a tampon that can absorb a full glass of water? A few tablespoons. Tell that to anyone that has had a terrible leaking incident.

Can’t remember if I mentioned - I bought a couple of paper journals on clearance at Walgreens. As usual, something I did not need, because my house overflows with potential journals, but still. I am making use of one to scribble down my bitching and complaints and small statements of personal agony. It helps, some.

I impulse-bought some Henry’s Hard Soda single cans of grape soda to try. M made a ridiculous comment about drinking them with the frozen lasagne, “because we don’t have any wine.” Grape hard soda as an equivalent to wine. Who even is this guy?

Also, he dug out a llama hair poncho the other day that I am 99% sure is the one he refers to from his childhood. After a quick trip through the washer and drier, he threw it on and swooped out of the bedroom in it. So. That’s what I live with.