I can’t wait.
Usually I hate Mondays. Dread them. Want to cry, scream and stay in bed. This morning when I woke up and heard the dripping, splashing, pouring rain I thought to myself “boooo! BOOOO Monday!!”, and then I became fully conscious and remembered that today is the first day of my final week of work. The very last Monday at this job! In this city! With this commute! With this weather!! And I danced a little jig as I brushed my teeth. It’s the final countdown, y’all.
THE BLAHS ARE BACK IN TOWN
I’m not calling it depression anymore. Everybody else has jumped on the depression bandwagon – not that I’m trying to downplay depression, I’m just saying – it’s a disease that apparently runs rampant in our society and so many people are blogging/facebooking/tweeting about it, I’m not calling it that anymore. Anyway, here’s what happens when the sky in Portland clouds over and it starts raining for what I know will eventually end up being the next 7-8 months: I get tired, I get lazy, I get sad, I get angry. So that’s how I feel. It’s creeping up, creeping in, staking it’s claim, but I’m staving it off, occupying myself with thoughts of our sunny new apartment in a sunny new town. Also, this week, I might be in the throes of PMS. It doesn’t help, it hinders.
BUT PLEASE DON’T CALL IT SHORT TIMER’S
You guys, I’m having such trouble concentrating, forcing myself to get my work done, training people. It’s ridiculous. I just want to google Amanda Knox (with whom I became obsessed this week thanks to gratuitous NPR coverage), look for delicious recipes, obsess about my gross body and watch old X-Files episodes, eat a bunch of macaroni and cheese and brownies (not together (because ew), but one after the other) and further contemplate my lack of sveltness. I only have one more Monday in this place. One more Monday. I have worked here for 4 and ½ years. ! I have lived in this apartment for 4 and ½ years. ! And suddenly I’m quitting my job and moving to a different state. After spending nearly half of my 30s in the same place, stagnating, gathering dust, I’m just going to wave aloha and be on my way. And I’m supposed to concentrate on work?
BEWARE THE THUNDER THIGHS
I’m so sick of being fat. I really want to do something about it. But what? My history doesn’t bode well for my future, if you know what I mean (and if you don’t, just re-read some of my lame ass blog posts about dieting and bingeing and whatnot). But honestly, it’s getting out of hand (has it ever really been in hand?). One thing I do know? Oatmeal does not fill you up, despite what they say. I had oatmeal for breakfast and 20 minutes later I’m starving. It does not stick to your ribs and/or stay with you. Is it just because I’m a fat girl, obsessing about food? Or because the oatmeal propaganda is not to be believed!? I am now eating my lunch at 10:11am, and am going to be starving long before I get home. See how I lost my point and derailed myself? I can’t concentrate! The point, THE POINT is, that I’m fat and sick of it. And moving to a place completely the opposite of here, here where you can hide in baggy jeans and sweaters 9 months out of the year because it’s wet and raining to there where you can where tiny little shorts and lay (lie? I hate the whole lay, lie, lain conspiracy – stupid English language) by the pool 9 months out of the year because it’s warm and sunny!!! (jazz hands). So I’m thinking of low carb. Again. Yes, YES I know, I KNOW! Judge not, lest ye be judged! But this double chin? Has GOT to go.