It rained constantly. Not just gentle sprinkles, but round up the animals and load them on the arc deluges.
I’m beat. My throat is sore. I’m coughing. My poor working woman’s body is achy.
The only thing that’s 100% is my appetite. I’ve eaten all the Rogers Chocolates I bought last week. (I picked up a lot of chocolate! Honking, big, “family sized” bars–vanilla milk chocolate, butter caramel, dark chocolate mint…) Last night I polished off half a pizza, eating it so fast I got a burn on the roof of my mouth. Ouch!
I don’t know why I’m eating so much. I’m not (especially) stressed, I’m not even extra hungry, but I can’t resist food.
I need a vacation. A real one, not just a quickie over the border one day visit to a Washington outlet mall.
Last year we went to Vegas. I’d share all the juicy details, but, well, what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.
It was hot and sunny. Wandering along a public street sucking on a huge margarita felt so foreign and so naughty that we couldn’t stop grinning at each other over our thick straws.
I have a wonderful family, a super duper little dog and a good job. I’m luckier than most.
A little sunshine would go a long way to making me believe it.