Perhaps you've noticed I've been a wee bit distracted lately. Reasons for this are two-maybe-threefold: one, I am heading out of town this weekend for a WEEK!, so my workload feels a little bit like when a wave breaks on top of you and rolls you around until you inhale a suffocating helping of saltwater.
Next time I say something as tempting to the universe as "I'm ready for a change!" or "I need a house project" or "I like being busy!" please remind me of the week when I was 29 and I had not one, but multiple fever blisters on my lips, and scarfed a malt with extra malt AND onion rings AND a cheeseburger more than once in a 24-hour period. To top it off, my boyfriend (who I now live with! High-five, chest bump!) is officially afraid to wake me from a slumber on the couch to gently suggest I move to the bed. Why? Please refer back to my intake of malt-with-extra-malt accompanied by the universe tossing me a hefty load of "Oh yeah?"
