Why am I such a spacer? I park in the covered garage at work & use one of those key cards to open the little gate arm to get in. Each morning on my way down the hill to enter the garage, I will roll down my window in preparation for swiping my key; 7 times out of 10, I will roll up my window before I get to the key swipe forgetting why I rolled it down in the first place.Yesterday when I was leaving work, I put the outgoing mail in the lock box for the postman. When I got home, I realized that I also put some important documents that I had just notarized in the mailbox along with our joint checkbook. OOPS! I told Sasha about the paperwork, but did not mention the checkbook, because he would have FREAKED! My ass was saved by the sheer good fortune of having already missed the mail pick up for that day & I had put them in the area to which I had a key instead of the actual mail slot. I was amazed they were still sitting there this morning, since I am not the only one with a key. PHEW!
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In boob news, I had a bra mishap yesterday. The delicate fabric decided to bust a hole in it right where it usually covers my areola. This was fine for work, because I was wearing a loose shirt while I hunched alone over my computer all day, but it was not so fine at the Gym. By the end of the day, a portion of my right boob was hanging out the hole in the fabric in such a way, that it resembled a nipple on a baby�s bottle, jutting out there on one side of my chest. This was quite distracting in my tighter fitting T-shirt as I walked the treadmill & worked the equipment. By the end of my work out, I was the ONLY person still in the gym. Coincidence?
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The weather be trippin�. It went from 57 degrees a few days ago to NINETY. This is like 130 degrees for Seattleites, because we are just not used to sweltering temperatures; people are dropping like sweaty flies.
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I am concentrating like heck to not to try and change Sasha; I don�t want to be that girl, but it is damn hard. I know he is always going to put his used coffee cup on the dining room table instead of the dishwasher. I know he will always try to change well-established plans at the last minute after I had spent weeks perfecting them. I know he will always sit to take a poop in our one bathroom just when I started brushing my teeth and I know he will get dumb on beer every single weekend and a few weeknights while hollering at the televised sports game. It is either love him for these things or turn into a horrendous uber-bitch.
Anyhowdy, it is Friday on a 3-day weekend, and for this ninetofiver, there is no better news. Is it wrong to rejoice on the day reserved to honor our fallen heroes?
Happy Memorial Day!