Well that was a late night...
Please, for the love of Primus, could all my RL friends leave me alone today. Just for one day.
My mother called me yesterday and we talked for 3 freaking hours. I didn't realize that we had been on the phone that long. But she is telling my that she is so proud that she only outweighs me by 10 pounds and that I am fat. Nice mom. At 170/175 I am a 10/12. at 180 you are a 16/18. And she keeps telling me that I should only weigh about 120. Um... 145-165 is my ideal weight. She is bragging about how she is losing weight so rapidly, just by watching what she eats. well duh. Pie isn't really breakfast food (even though it makes a good breakfast food) And she goes on about how I should follow her example and just diet instead of trying to exercise my weight off. Nothing like a 10am slap to the self confidence (if anyone is wondering, I haven't lost a pound, but my arms are firming up nicely, and I have more energy)
I hang up from her, and decide to start going through the boxes containing all my craft supplies and odd items I don't have any clue what to do with. Basically, my house runnith over with stuff that is out of place due to my sweet hubby NOT finishing the remodel project in the basement. All of my stuff: TFs, notebooks, yarn, beading supplies are still in boxes and the only place I have to do anything is on the dinning room table (I am there now). These boxes are scattered all over my house, cluttering up everything. My OCD, a place for everything and everything in it's place, is making me a raging bitch. I have been real good about not snapping at hubby... until today, but that is later.
So, I start going through the boxes and sorting, throwing anything I dont' need or want in the future in a pile. DING DONG. Friend comes over. *sigh* She wants to go play. I don't, so she sits on my sofa and gripes at me because watching me sort is boring. *heavy sigh* I am trying to get my boys to clean up the bazillion legos they have strung all over the basement and refuse to clean up. This argument has gone on for two days and I had already decided to clean the basement myself and remove/throw out anything I pick up along with all the legos.
Friend stays through dinner and eats with us.
Hubby comes home from work. I know that where he works is over 120 degrees inside on days like this and that the heat is wiping him out. I have been calm and kind and nice to him, not nagging or bitching. By this time I had reboxing my stuff and moving it to less conspicuous places, along with deep cleaning the room. You know, the cleaning where furniture is moved and ceiling fans are wiped off. He comes home and friend mentions that the boys had been acting up and refusing to clean. Hubby turns to me and says, "It isn't like you can't make them mind, why didn't you get off your ass and make them do what they are suppose to." ( Oh did I mention that I was 2 drinks and a dose of pain meds to the wind. arthritis sucks )
WWIII promptly ensued. Actually it was more like a blitzkrege. I heatedly, showed him what I had done and what I had left to do and what he could just do with his comment. He apologized and tried to help me move the massive box of TFs. He prattled on about how I was limping and needed to rest. I tried to bite him.
Then. Then the MIL calls and wants to go to the double feature at the drive in. Harry Potter and the Zookeeper. I spent over 5 hours sitting in the tail bed of a truck and didn't get home until 3am. My eyes burn. My hip and back are killing and I have had 5 hours of sleep. Once everyone gets up, I hope to finish my cleaning and then promptly die.
My mother called me yesterday and we talked for 3 freaking hours. I didn't realize that we had been on the phone that long. But she is telling my that she is so proud that she only outweighs me by 10 pounds and that I am fat. Nice mom. At 170/175 I am a 10/12. at 180 you are a 16/18. And she keeps telling me that I should only weigh about 120. Um... 145-165 is my ideal weight. She is bragging about how she is losing weight so rapidly, just by watching what she eats. well duh. Pie isn't really breakfast food (even though it makes a good breakfast food) And she goes on about how I should follow her example and just diet instead of trying to exercise my weight off. Nothing like a 10am slap to the self confidence (if anyone is wondering, I haven't lost a pound, but my arms are firming up nicely, and I have more energy)
I hang up from her, and decide to start going through the boxes containing all my craft supplies and odd items I don't have any clue what to do with. Basically, my house runnith over with stuff that is out of place due to my sweet hubby NOT finishing the remodel project in the basement. All of my stuff: TFs, notebooks, yarn, beading supplies are still in boxes and the only place I have to do anything is on the dinning room table (I am there now). These boxes are scattered all over my house, cluttering up everything. My OCD, a place for everything and everything in it's place, is making me a raging bitch. I have been real good about not snapping at hubby... until today, but that is later.
So, I start going through the boxes and sorting, throwing anything I dont' need or want in the future in a pile. DING DONG. Friend comes over. *sigh* She wants to go play. I don't, so she sits on my sofa and gripes at me because watching me sort is boring. *heavy sigh* I am trying to get my boys to clean up the bazillion legos they have strung all over the basement and refuse to clean up. This argument has gone on for two days and I had already decided to clean the basement myself and remove/throw out anything I pick up along with all the legos.
Friend stays through dinner and eats with us.
Hubby comes home from work. I know that where he works is over 120 degrees inside on days like this and that the heat is wiping him out. I have been calm and kind and nice to him, not nagging or bitching. By this time I had reboxing my stuff and moving it to less conspicuous places, along with deep cleaning the room. You know, the cleaning where furniture is moved and ceiling fans are wiped off. He comes home and friend mentions that the boys had been acting up and refusing to clean. Hubby turns to me and says, "It isn't like you can't make them mind, why didn't you get off your ass and make them do what they are suppose to." ( Oh did I mention that I was 2 drinks and a dose of pain meds to the wind. arthritis sucks )
WWIII promptly ensued. Actually it was more like a blitzkrege. I heatedly, showed him what I had done and what I had left to do and what he could just do with his comment. He apologized and tried to help me move the massive box of TFs. He prattled on about how I was limping and needed to rest. I tried to bite him.
Then. Then the MIL calls and wants to go to the double feature at the drive in. Harry Potter and the Zookeeper. I spent over 5 hours sitting in the tail bed of a truck and didn't get home until 3am. My eyes burn. My hip and back are killing and I have had 5 hours of sleep. Once everyone gets up, I hope to finish my cleaning and then promptly die.