Sooo-o, I managed to make it through February. Barely. Let’s take a look back, shall we?
I managed to follow my paltry two rules meticulously until the last three days of the last week. Screw it, I thought. I’m stressed and cranky and having a breakdown or whatever.* I can do better next month. So I had dessert. Two days worth of dessert.
But a weird thing happened: after two days of sugar, I didn’t want any more.
Which is so not a thing I ever thought I’d say.
Anyway, the stats:
You see that dip there at the end? That was me, stuffing my face with ice cream sandwiches and my first Snickers bar in a month. (And the climb on the very last day was me nursing a wicked sugar hangover.)
But! Despite falling off the wagon for the last couple of days, I still got my badge:
Isn’t it pretty and shiny?
I’m playing again this month; you can follow along here. Sign up for next month while you’re there! You can even be on my team. Maybe.
Ever since I started getting my groceries delivered from New Seasons, I’ve been fending off Safeway’s increasingly desperate entreaties to resume ordering from them online. “Free delivery!” one email cajoles, while the next wails “Two for one! You can get things two for one!” Today’s missive was particularly pathetic: “Free watermelon with online order!”
A…watermelon. Really. Well, yes, I can see why it would be nice to have one delivered, but that’s just odd.
I know, you’re thinking how tragically bourgeois, having your groceries delivered, but it really isn’t like that, much. We don’t have a car, so our shopping trips tend to be limited to what we can reasonably carry on our persons – which doesn’t tend to be cost-effective in the long run. Also, things like bags of potatoes and boxes of cat litter? Not terribly portable. Or at least not unless that’s the only thing you’re picking up, in which case: bah.
But speaking of bourgeois, we just signed up for a twice-monthly organic local produce delivery from Organics to You. So, yeah. Mock away.
I just – just! – had lunch, so my brain is all ping-tastic and fluttering hither and thither. Thither. I don’t think I’ve ever used that word without hither attached to it – have you? I am scampering to Merriam Webster right now to see the fun I have been missing.
Well, so. Here I am in the unexpected silence of my house (silence being a term I use loosely, as the whoosh-whoosh of the dishwasher is providing this afternoon’s background noise). The kid and the cat (one of them, anyway) are napping adorably on the bed, and I’m sort of nominally waiting for a phone call from a potential client while searching the internet for cookie recipes using agave nectar. Oddly, I am not finding very many. I think it’s time for a baking experiment, don’t you?
I also think that I need to think of a new moniker for Happy Fun Baby. He’s a toddler now, so the “baby” bit is somewhat outdated, and “Happy Fun Toddler” sounds weird. I could call him by his name, since it’s not like that’s a big secret or anything, but I like using aliases because it makes me feel like a spy. I would have made a very poor spy, although I would have liked the outfits. Probably. As long as I wasn’t undercover as a badly-dressed person. Certainly there’s more call for those than for Jennifer Garner-esque wigs and push-up bras, yes? I mean, way to blend, right?
But speaking of the kid, and my brain, and the two together…he woke up last night at midnight, cheerful as you please, and then would not go back to sleep. He snuggled. He sang songs. He played with my hair. But sleep? Sleep is for losers! At 3am I finally broke down and went to get Not So, who (of course) was still awake, since insomnia apparently runs in the family. Even after he came to bed, the kid was all wriggles and kicks, so basically I shared my pain instead of finding a way to fix the problem. Hey – YOU try thinking rationally at 3am when you’ve been repeatedly yanked from the edge of sleep by a tiny grinning
demon baby. Er, toddler.
All I can say is: it’s a good thing he’s so cute.