My good pal Joe.

Not my picture. Not claiming it's my picture. But can't
find the proper source of the picture - there, I
think I've covered my bases :)

Top of the mornin’ to ya! I should be sleeping. Well, actually, I should be working but since the Air Force is going through a lovely thing called “Force Shaping” I’m on…well…let’s just call it sabbatical for simplicity sake. So until I officially get my orders I’m basically just being a big pile of shit - well at least that's how I feel sans job. I mean, I’m productive to a point – I cook (I know, I know, popping frozen food in the oven isn’t cooking but I don’t know what else to call it), and I clean, and I run, and I play with the dog, the cat, my hair, and the kids toys as I’m straightening their rooms. I pump my own gas, which I looooooathe, but since Love isn’t here I have no choice (yes, I want a cookie for pumping gas). I shop. I take pictures. I walk around looking for more shit to do. Maybe if I had a little one in the house during the day I wouldn’t feel so guilty about not working, but no, they all decided to grow up and head to elementary school. How dare they?




I should be sleeping. Really. I haven’t had a solid night of sleep for almost a month – and it’s catching up to me. I'd like to stop drinking coffee and just straight-up inject it – unfortunately I don’t have access to needles. I think I spend more money on coffee than I do on food – no joke. I just can’t sleep at night and then by mid-afternoon I finally get sleepy but I can't sleep because the kids are home by then, so I knock back a few cups of Joe and I'm good for another few hours. I have nothing to do. Well,  nothing I'm motivated to do - besides, all the important stuff is done; I’ve already cleaned my house to the point that I’m sure guests think I have OCD when they walk in. I’ve already done my shopping for the week. I’ve pumped the god-damn gas. The dog is being neurotic so I’m keeping my distance. The cat is taking a nap on my behalf and I ran until I thought I was going to die. See? I got my bases covered. For the past few weeks, when I’ve found myself in this position I find myself flippin’ on a show to watch (and I don’t watch much TV so that says a lot) but then I feel guilty that I’m about to just SIT and watch a show so what does my crazy ass do? Crunches, and lunges, and squats and any other sort of exercise I can do that will allow me to watch Jack Bauer kick terrorist ass in ‘24’ whilst profusely sweating and doing far more reps than needed. But today I’m sore. Like, I can hardly walk up and down the stairs because apparently my lower body is just that outta shape. So I opt to write about my woes and then, who am I kidding, I’ll probably end up watching Netflix knowing that I have the excuse of sore legs to sit on my bum all morning.


I should be sleeping, because if I keep on this sleeplessness/fatigue cycle while Hubby is gone I’m going to end up watching the entire season of ‘24’ in record time. At least I’ll have a smoking hot back-side by the time he gets home. Drop it like it’s hot.