Slurp. Jealous? Because I'd be. It's 10:21am...and I'm not in work clothes. In fact, I'm lounging on the couch, blanket on the legs, laptop roaring, ready for the day. Not that I have lots planned. But in theory, I do.
I'm researching spas/salons right now because I feel that I need to thank my feet for their work last night. I woke up this morning still a little sore in the legs, hips, and feet. I should have worn a pedometer last night. But then again, I don't really want to know what I put my body through. Job satisfaction is good enough for me.
I did a pass by the used bookstore this morning to check their Friday hours. They open at 1pm. Suck. I need literature. I'm bored with what I have. That and I'm hoping to find more cookbooks. Because I love cookbooks. And I'm trying to up my creativity in the kitchen. Otherwise I'll starve during deployments.
Sorry, I just had a coworker call to check up on me. She's uber jealous I'm planning on a pedicure today. Because my little babies need it. Well, the toenails need it. And the massage isn't a bad deal either. And why not? But I'll see her tomorrow. Because I have cool coworkers like that.
But I'm actually not in too bad of shape for working all day yesterday. And I genuinely feel bummed for not being at work. There's always stuff to do. Whether it's organizing my pantry or prepping for next week's seminar and [another] cocktail reception. But here's a secret...I totally brought my calendar book and work for next week home with me. So I can't promise I won't be working a little at home. At least I'll be thinking of work while at home. But only for a moment. And probably on Sunday evening. Because I do need time to myself.
Speaking of time to myself, Mr. Wookie's gone in to study for a few hours today which leaves me time to crank the Taylor Swift and clean/laundry it up. There's just something about utilizing a free day, off from work, and putting your home back into working order. Because, as you may not have guessed, working long days leaves my house looking a mess. Because I come home, scrounge dinner, have a beverage, and would rather fall asleep on the couch than lug my butt upstairs to sleep in a real bed. Yes, I feel like I'm 17 sometimes, back when couch sleeping was the epitome of lazy.
But I still have half a cup of coffee next to me. And I can't abandon it.
On my trek to the bookstore, I saw a mom pushing a stroller. I don't want to be that mom. I don't want to be the mom that squishes a kid out at 39. I don't want to be so old that people think it's your grandkid. I don't want to have more wrinkles than they have baby fat rolls. I don't want that. But then again, I don't want to be 26 with 5 kids. Talk about needing to find a hobby other than entertaining pheromones. I don't want to be tripping on my sagging lady bits because they've been under so much duress. I don't want my uterus to protest outside the capital building for birth control reform. Because they'll probably have a run-in with an Intern.
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