It's been so much OOTW, in fact, that I skipped my workout with Attila today, because I simply felt like shit. Sore, underslept, stressed out through nearly missing a haircut appointment (other curly-haired people will testify that finding a stylist who can cut curly hair justifies walking through fire) thanks to construction that caused me to miss a turn and end up driving a surface street into Dallas, of all places. There needs to be a Ouidad salon closer to Littletown, is all I have to say.
There are flies all over my back yard and thus all over Max. I have emptied the two gallon-sized flytraps three times this week; I do not know where all these flies are coming from. Somebody is not cleaning his or her yard. My poor doggy is bleeding from fly bites; I finally gave up and covered him in children's OFF this afternoon. Cedar granules are next.
I have paid careful attention to both diet and exercise for the past two weeks, staying within my Weight Watcher's points and not freaking out on frozen pizza or beer. I have gained seven pounds in that time.
My shrink employs the flakiest office staff in the world. Getting through to them on the phone is an undertaking: I've been trying multiple times a day for a week and have yet to reach anything but an answering machine (messages are not returned). All I want is an appointment for a brain-drug refill.
It's been raining like crazy, which is great for the tomatoes and crap for my mood.
I have five more shifts to work at night. The thing that sucks about that is that not only do I have five more shifts (ie, two more weeks) on nights, but when I stop, I will no longer be able to have midnight chats with my bestest buddy ever, who also works nights.
On the other hand....
I did get that haircut. They were nice enough to wait for me, since the stylist had had a cancellation. It all worked out.
My pants and shirts are baggier this week than last, which leads me to believe that I'm doing something right, despite gaining seven pounds.
The neighbors are having a baby! This makes me so face-splitting-grinningly happy that I can't stand it. They're going to be great parents.
Max came in last night *just* as it was starting to rain and spent the night having what sounded like very complex, involved dreams on his bed next to mine. Human snoring and kicking drives me nuts; dog snoring and boofing and sleep-chasing sends me right to sleep.
Maybe it's not all bad. Maybe.