Day 1175 Bad Day
I have about had it with tomatoes. I didn't like them to begin with and I've had to deal with them all summer long... and then Mom's telling me to skin and freeze some. When I told her that I won't use them if they're processed like that, she tells me to put them in with roasts. Yeah- fucking ruin the roast. Oh, I can scrape them off? But the whole thing is still tomato flavored and I don't like tomatoes. But you should like tomatoes, they're so gooood. She has told me at least 20 times this summer that I should like tomatoes.
Okay- now, I fucking HATE tomatoes.
Push me some more, why don't you? I'll refuse to cook them, slice them or in any other way deal with tomatoes at ALL and then where will you be?
Now I like to put wine in with my roast and she complains... but it's ok to put tomatoes in so I can't stand the taste. I'm making a roast tonight for tomorrow... guess what's going in? Guess what isn't?
On top of that, I washed my sheets and hung them out on the line. We had a 5 minute rain storm so they have to be rewashed- the sheets are soaked and it didn't even register in the rain gage. It's too late to hang them out again so I'll have to put them in the dryer.
And Emily took a couple of pictures of me. She deleted them when she saw how I reacted but I look horribly fat and middle-aged. Which is no more than accurate, I suppose, but it makes me want to hide in the house and never ever eat anything again. Especially not fucking tomatoes.
Okay- now, I fucking HATE tomatoes.
Push me some more, why don't you? I'll refuse to cook them, slice them or in any other way deal with tomatoes at ALL and then where will you be?
Now I like to put wine in with my roast and she complains... but it's ok to put tomatoes in so I can't stand the taste. I'm making a roast tonight for tomorrow... guess what's going in? Guess what isn't?
On top of that, I washed my sheets and hung them out on the line. We had a 5 minute rain storm so they have to be rewashed- the sheets are soaked and it didn't even register in the rain gage. It's too late to hang them out again so I'll have to put them in the dryer.
And Emily took a couple of pictures of me. She deleted them when she saw how I reacted but I look horribly fat and middle-aged. Which is no more than accurate, I suppose, but it makes me want to hide in the house and never ever eat anything again. Especially not fucking tomatoes.