Swinging

Ha ha, I bet some of you thought that was going to have a dirty connotation. I don't write dirty posts. Mostly because too many of my immediate and extended family members read this stuff and I do have a few boundaries. Anyway, the swinging I'm talking about is in regards to my mood.

9 a.m. Up and away! Dropped the kids off and going to meet 'Stacey' for breakfast.

12:30 p.m. Down. Sweaty and hot from housework and realization I've barely made a dent in all that needs to be done around here.

2:30 p.m. Up a little thanks to a ginormous bag of Mini Eggs and a glass of milk and a little couch time with a book.

3:30 p.m. Up and away! (again). At 'Stacey's' with the kids; watching them have a blast in the paddling pool and on the Slip 'n' Slide and feeling very relaxed.

5 p.m. Zen. Getting supper ready; home is, for all intents and purposes, pretty tidy; children are quietly watching a movie and ring a ding ding, Big Brother starts tonight!

8:46 p.m. Plummet like the crash of '29. Fatigue has set in. House is quiet. Trying to decide what I want to eat while I enjoy the circus that is Big Brother. Must have junk food but can't decide what I want. I'm hot. I'm tired. I'm bloated. No more Zen. Sore neck muscles and slightly distended abdomen. You know what might lift me out of this precarious mood? Grape vodka and Sprite over a shitload of ice. Do I have grape vodka? No. Fuck. Do I have Sprite? No. Fuck. Do I have ice? Yes, but who gives a fuck?

I'm going to the store.