This week has been impossibly crappy; so crappy, in fact, that I left work today at 1pm, drove straight home, popped open an icy-cold beer and pulled out my leftover chocolate raspberry cheesecake, devoured one and then the other and then had a good cry. Moving is stressful enough, as you probably know, but there are many other factors contributing to this move being a giant, throbbing pain in my ass. Factors I could easily detail for you (unlike my boss, my landlord can't evict us over my blog) but they depress me so, I'd like to leave them vague and fuzzy. I love this house—it's beautiful!—but it's not perfect and we don't own it, so all of its imperfections have to be handled on someone else's timeline (and this person, in case you care, is batshit insane).
I'm reminded, once again, how strongly I feel that "Keeping A Squeaky Clean Credit Score" should be a required college course.
I sat down to write a baby-related post just now, but you would not want to hear the drivel I'd come up with today. It would be a lot of whining and pleading with you to send me shoes to make up for the empty-belly thing. And your eyes might get permanently lodged in the back of your skull because, seriously, Can I get a hobby or, maybe, an OFFLINE diary?
So, instead of blabbering on like a worn-out idiot about various sucky topics, I have a very serious question I'm going to ask you. And I look forward to each and every answer.
What book are you currently reading?
Distract me, will you? I'd be just ridiculously grateful.