Friday, June 24, 2011

Tossin' and Turnin' All Night

Face. It's all I'm confronted with when I make my frustrated flip over. And over. And over. My nightie is twisted up around my legs, my underwear is bothering for whatever inexplicable reason, and my back is screaming at me that this isn't working! And now, as I straighten myself out and flip over toward the middle, I knock my nose into Joe's fist (why is it laying up there like that?) and realize my face is a hair away from his.

I feel crazed. I don't ever have a problem sleeping, which Joe usually begrudges me, but lately I've been up at 1 and 2 a.m. And, pardon the pun, but I'm getting so tired of it! At around 3:45 a.m., I gave in and went downstairs only to be confronted with our cat, Shakes, digging around under the table. I looked behind me and realized it was a huge wood roach that he was torturing to death. I have an irrational fear of wood roaches. It's the long attenae, the wings, the utter nastiness.

Could the night get any worse?! The answer is yes.

Shakes slayed the roach (which I decided to leave for Joe to pick up in the morning), and he decided to come join me on the recliner. I always get love from him when Joe isn't looking; he's really Joe's baby. He then proceeded to rub his wet little roachy lips all over me in his quest for comfort! I decided I needed to go back upstairs.

I settled in, tried to breathe and relax, flipped over, and there it was again. FACE.

What a craptastic night.

Wednesday, June 22, 2011

Clearing the Cobwebs

Well, friends, summer has begun. After weeks and weeks of "hanging in there," I am happy to report that summer has started. Actually, it started two and a half weeks ago, but I clearly couldn't be bothered to write about it as I basked in the relief of it. I'm already tanner, fitter, and happier.

Early on I dubbed this the "Summer of Reagan." Tired of going cuckoo, I decided I would make myself healthier, inside and out. I promised myself I would get my eating under control (By the the of the school year I had honed the uncanny skill of sniffing out sugar like a bloodhound. No cupcake, brownie, or pastry was safe in my presence.). I vowed to work out. I promised I would write. I promised I would open myself up to new opportunities.

Well, Opportunity hasn't exactly come knocking in the ways I had hoped, but I have utilized my time for good (working out and eating right) instead of evil (inhaling copious amounts of icing). I'm actually making progress, and that feels great even if I don't have that feeling of productivity I get during the school year. I love the languid feel of summer, but sometimes it makes me feel like I'm forgetting something I'm supposed to be doing.

And I have been forgetting something. To write it all down. My brain has been lazy, tricking me into believing I have nothing to blog or write about. Out of practice and out of work, my brain went for a sabbatical as well. It feasted on reality television and trashy novels (my brain's version of pizza and beer). And so, reluctantly, it is straining to make it through this first entry after so long away. Trust me, those wheels up there need some greasin'!

But my keyboard and yoga mat are not the only things I'm blowing the dust off of this summer. In an attempt to clean up our acts, Joe and I will be tackling our spare room's closet. Most people do not know about the dreaded closet. It is truly, literally, our dirtiest little secret. Joe rolls his eyes at me when I mention how gross it is, but there's just no denying it. It's not because we're messy people (our house is usually pretty organized); it's because when I moved in, that's where all the superfluous stuff was placed...err...tossed. You know your "junk drawer" in the kitchen that you have to rummage through to find the scissors that you use to cut the dingleberries off the cat? (What, you don't have that problem?!) Well, picture that drawer in closet form. That's what I'm talkin' about. And as grossed out as we get by the state of the closet, we haven't been able to bring ourselves to tackle it. (I have images of getting lost in an avalanche of precariously perched boxes of teaching crap, Joe just feels there are more pressing things to tackle, and honestly it's just really hot up there.)

However, Joe is on vacation (or as he calls it, "stay-cation") next week, and he informed me that we will be organizing the closet together. Can our relationship handle this Everest of closets? Most likely. Will it be an exercise in self control and patience? Definitely. Knowing how whiny I can get when confronted with unsavory tasks such as this, Joe could use all the luck you can wish him.