Recently I’ve caught myself snorting when I get really cracked up. I’ve always been able to hold my hearty laugh’s tendency toward snorting at bay but lately I can’t contain the piggish grunts. This is decidedly unattractive and not likely to bring any boys to my yard, huh?
What is it about cute shirts that makes them magnets for stains? It seems like I’m only able to wear my favorite tops once before having to wash them, while my drabber gear remains stain-free after many wears. Since I only do laundry every 6 months, my fun tops aren’t getting a lot of play. Fortunately this is the quandary of a spoiled first-world citizen and not, like, a real problem.
Since I started taking meds to address my thyroid woes, I’ve been over-analyzing every bit of data my body provides my brain, hoping I’ll be aware the moment I’m healed. Apparently I’m also anemic so my doc prescribed pre-natal vitamins. When I bought them, I felt the need to flash a birth control Rx to passersby, just to avoid any confusion. I’d hate to get onesies and teething rings for Christmas instead of the whiskey and roach clips I asked for.
This morning I had a meeting with my boss and for some reason, worked myself up into quite a tizzy about it. I didn’t realize until it was over and my body practically collapsed with relief. My boss was pleased with my progress despite my concerns he’d be shocked at my lack of industry. I think I was feeling overwhelmed because the project I’m working on is rather complex and the culmination of several years’ work. I need to remember to break things like this into small bits and focus on those in order to keep from having a nervous breakdown over stupid milestone meetings.
In summary, I’m a snorting, iron-deficient, neurotic freak who wears boring shirts.
P.S. I am loving Q-Tip’s long-awaited album, The Renaissance – most especially I Believe ft. D’Angelo. It’s got me toe-tappin’ for real, y’all!