(no subject)
I just cleaned the house for the housecleaner. I've officially turned into my mother.
Cleaner's going to be here in less than 12 hours??? He already knows about the dildo, he can't also know that I spent all weekend miserably eating reese peanut butter cups and drinking my weight in neocitran/gingerale. Reese cups and alfafa sprouts (three cartons worth, no joke) because sick me is weird.
I worked 8 hours today instead of the 4 I was supposed to do. This job, I love it. They give me more days but cut my hours on most days, not that it matters because I never leave when I'm supposed to. That being said, today was so busy, it didn't slow down from 9 to 3. The last two hours I spent chilling with our new IT guy, laughing about Catbert, torrenting tips, and our mutual mostly vegetarianism.
Ugh, my muscles ache from this illness. There is no reason my left thigh should be so fucking sore right now. Besides dancing like a dork to my new playlist made from entirely too embarssing reasons, I lay about my couch mainlining terrible Teen television and Downton Abbey because that's how I roll.
Upside, the playlist involves M Ward and Black Keys, so I mostly just want to drive around Ontario farmland and dance dirty with a boy whenever I hear it. At the same time. Or not, because I like living.
Okay, I need to stop just rambling posting while horribly ill, un-medicated, and regretting that last peanut butter cup, or last 4.
Cleaner's going to be here in less than 12 hours??? He already knows about the dildo, he can't also know that I spent all weekend miserably eating reese peanut butter cups and drinking my weight in neocitran/gingerale. Reese cups and alfafa sprouts (three cartons worth, no joke) because sick me is weird.
I worked 8 hours today instead of the 4 I was supposed to do. This job, I love it. They give me more days but cut my hours on most days, not that it matters because I never leave when I'm supposed to. That being said, today was so busy, it didn't slow down from 9 to 3. The last two hours I spent chilling with our new IT guy, laughing about Catbert, torrenting tips, and our mutual mostly vegetarianism.
Ugh, my muscles ache from this illness. There is no reason my left thigh should be so fucking sore right now. Besides dancing like a dork to my new playlist made from entirely too embarssing reasons, I lay about my couch mainlining terrible Teen television and Downton Abbey because that's how I roll.
Upside, the playlist involves M Ward and Black Keys, so I mostly just want to drive around Ontario farmland and dance dirty with a boy whenever I hear it. At the same time. Or not, because I like living.
Okay, I need to stop just rambling posting while horribly ill, un-medicated, and regretting that last peanut butter cup, or last 4.