Salutations, faithful readers!
My last week included such titillating adventures as Still Fucking Lice! and Getting Stabbed With A Scalpel! and Fighting With My Insurance Company!
If you haven’t tried adulting, might I thoroughly dissuade you now.
This week has all been about how working through identity crises is for privileged people with too much time on their hands. Like, the last thing I’ve wanted to do after spending an hour on the phone with Kaiser or two hours tediously picking bugs out of my kid’s hair is sit down and read a goddamn book. No, what I do want to do after all that is make myself a cocktail and mainline Fuller House.
What I’m trying to say is that I’m making very little headway on my goals. Why in fact, I even lied to you guys (all 18 of you!) on Twitter yesterday and said the new post would be up that night. Ha! Joke’s on you – I didn’t work on it after all! Because 5:00pm Twitter-updating me turned out to be far more enthusiastic than 8:30pm post-kid bedtime me.
Here are the things I did this week that felt good:
- Finished my sewing class! I now have cutsie kitty pajamas that are like twelve sizes too big. Holding them up is like a success story on My 600-Pound Life without all that bothersome bariatric surgery or actual weight loss.
- I made tons of practice bread. I really want to get better at baking yeast bread. The lesson learned this week (I think) is that I shouldn’t be too zealous about force proofing in the oven. It’s not that I’m trying to save time, I guess I just like the gratification of squishy poofy dough, but I think this may be foolhardy. I’ll science through my hypothesis and get back to you.
- I cooked a bunch of food.
- I sewed a scarf!
- I purchased a pattern and fabric to make a skirt.
- I made the hubber’s Steak & Blow Job Day Top Secret Dinner Reservations.
- I crushed the grocery challenge this week:
- Did not buy more Girl Scout Cookies even though I wanted to.
Maybe I did do some stuff that was okay. But I’ve been so exhausted this week that I can barely think of anything I did that was good. In fact, even writing this is like slowly walking across broken glass. But I’m forcing myself. I think this coming week will be about forcing myself to do the things I should, even though I really, really don’t feel like it.
For instance, I haven’t read a book in two or three weeks. I mean, I’ve read Facebook, but that sadly doesn’t count as much as I wish it did. I started a novel, but it really wasn’t my style and after that I’ve felt no motivation to read because a part of me thinks that giving up on this book and moving on to the next book is a failure, so it would be better just not to read at all than to admit defeat. But today I returned the ill-fitted novel to the library so that I wouldn’t have to feel that guilt of not finishing a book that is just sitting there. Judging me. Plus, the book I’ve been looking forward to (Leah Remini‘s memoir Troublemaker: Surviving Hollywood and Scientology) is due back at the library soon and can’t be renewed because it’s on perpetual hold until people stop wanting to schadenfreude over what a hot mess scientology is. So tonight, after I publish this, I’m going to force myself to read. Even though I’m exhausted, even though I might only get through a chapter before I crumple into a weepy pile.
Oh! And last week I forgot to give you an update on the Sckooncup! So here it is: The menstrual cup thing is, IMHO, a big hassle. It’s messy, and uncomfortable, and inconvenient. It makes me feel like a pioneering failure, the fact that I don’t love it as much as everyone else I know. It hasn’t surpassed traditional hygiene products in terms of convenience or tidiness, and for that reason I’m gonna have to give it a pass. I know some of you would urge me to try another brand until I find one that I love, but at $40 a pop it’s a hard sell. If I buy one more and hate it too, I’m out $80 which is basically a year’s supply of tampons. So, I’m really hesitant to do that. Sorry, everyone who loves them. It’s not for me.
And that’s it for this week! Time for a little schadenfreude.