Oh, Wednesday.

Oh, Wednesday.

I’ve been sick this week, thanks to my ankle biting two-year old who just so happened to be sick for… oh… two months.  Give or take.  Thanks Gabe!

Because of this, I’ve said (and done) some relatively mindless things.  And my feeble attempt at studying for that blasted lab exam?  Epic.  Fail.  That’s not to say I didn’t put in any effort.  I made study guides.  I did the homework.  I looked over diagrams & even looked online for tests regarding the material.  But my sick, feeble little mind couldn’t retain anything.  Stupid brain.  I’ll be amazed if I did well, but I refuse to be optimistic.  I’d rather be pleasantly surprised with a mediocre score than devastated by a, well — just face it, shitty one.

Anyway.  Feeling a little better today, so I went to get my hair cut.  I waited for about an hour before I was finally seated.  She did a good job… I think.  She didn’t get to wash it or style it due to lack of time, so I left with a soggy, shedding, no-styled head.  Ah, well.  I don’t have split ends anymore, so I’m happy with it.

I experienced a massive brain fart yesterday.  MASSIVE, guys.  If the brain could actually pass gas, mine would have killed everyone within close proximity.  A co-worker of mine was looking pretty intently at the back of a one-hundred dollar bill, so I asked why.  He was all, “The clock on the bill.. it actually tells the time!”  So I looked at it.  Now, guys… it was pretty damn close to four o’clock.  Pretty damn.  Like, 15 minutes.  The clock on the back reads four-ten.  So I look at it, and sure enough it says the time.  But my dumbass said, “Dude… it’s like, 3:45.  You’re watch is wrong.”  The silence that filled the room was ridiculous.  And I have NEVER in my life felt like more of a… ok, I’m lying.  I’ve definitely felt like a bigger dumbass.  But for yesterday, that was just BAD.

To add insult to injury, yesterday I went grocery shopping.  No biggie, right?  Right.  Well, I unloaded Gabe in the house (& in front of Curious George) so that I could retrieve said groceries.  I shut the kitchen door so he couldn’t get out and that critters wouldn’t get in… went to my car… got all the groceries… turned the knob annnnnnnd…. nothing.  That’s right, guys.. I locked myself out & my toddler in.  I FREAKED OUT.  Talk about mom of the year award, right?  So I’m frantically looking around to see if any windows are unlocked.  But wouldn’t you know it…

About the time I’m finding something to knock a window out with (and some Crisco so I could squeeze my not-so-window-friendly-hips through), my parents pull up.  THANK GOD.  Turns out, I’d only been outside for five minutes.  But it felt like an eternity.  I could just imagine all the crap Gabe was getting into.  But thank Jesus, he was still in his chair, drinking his juice, laughing at George.  That little monkey will never fully understand my gratitude for his scheming ways.

Right now I’m looking at the treadmill.. knowing that I need to run.  But can I be honest?  I don’t feel like it.  Normally I love it.  But tonight I’m not feeling it.  I’m gonna have to heave myself up there, I just know it.  But the weight’s not gonna fall off by itself.  So here we go.

Buzz off, Wednesday.

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