“Positive Positive Positive! I’ve had 3 Red Bulls in the last 15 minutes and I feel fabulous!”
I am being positive. But in a hipster way. Meaning, that I’m, sniggering behind my hands at the possibility and making fun of positive quotes and shit. (I’m too fat to wear hipster jeans and those ugly shoes they wear.) I figure, if I at least pretend to be motivated and gleeful, it might actually happen.
I spent two days at work unloading my misery onto my friends and thankfully, they indulged me by listening and not offering solutions, or the old there are people dying in Africa, you ungrateful, fat bitch; so snap out of it. Then Spouse gave me a good talking to which ended in a very pointless argument about who called who first and some frantic checking of iPhone records. (We’re weird OK? Scratch that, we’re normal and can admit our weirdness.)
Point is…I don’t actually know what the point is. I just wanted to write about how I’m feeling. Because it makes me feel better.
A friend suggested I write a list of the things I want to change.
So here goes…
We need to move. To a house.
I need to stop calling myself a fat bitch.
I need to get some sleep. Meaning I need to re-train my own sleep patterns.
I need to spend more time outside.
I need to spend more time reading and less time watching Hoarders: Buried Alive.
We need to come to a conclusion about heading away again.
And I really need to do the grocery shopping.