Tuesday, October 26, 2010

The Post Wherein You Learn I Have a Few Issues

I was a tool this weekend, just when I blogged that I so rarely am.

When I am stressed, I don't eat. Also, for the first time since my twenties, and despite the fact that I read Stefanie Wilder Taylor's blog, I went out on Saturday and drank too much. Yay for me that I never do it and drive. Boo for me that this time my son was with me. I am not proud. (And, no, he wasn't the one that was driving. My husband was taking care of both of us.)

Every single night my son is with me and not at his dad's I tuck him into bed and we cuddle and chat. However, on Saturday, I had 5 pieces of asparagus for dinner. Because, you know, you gotta eat if you're drinking and I was at a pasta joint and I don't eat wheat and, also, I have this little anorexia issue when I feel my life is out of control. But I couldn't cuddle with him that night because the room wasn't just spinning, it was spiraling out of control like that carnival ride that pins you against the wall.

Just in case you ever plan on having 5 pieces of asparagus for dinner and a bottle of wine to yourself while dining at high altitude, you should know that the hangovers are a nightmare. I spent the next day on the couch while my son played around me and prayed to God for his mother to feel better. See. Tool.

We got the proposal from swanky mall. It's so very expensive. Our business plan went from a bottom line that provided a comfortable living to a bottom line that doesn't look much different than where we are right now, only I get to leave the cubicle. I am having a hard time with the following: (1) not wanting to be taken advantage of over rent while still presenting an offer that makes us competitive for a spot [the process is blind, so there's no bidding war - you just present an offer and hope it's better than the other proposals they received]; (2) making sure I am making a business decision, not a decision based on wanting to get the hell out of cube world; (3) I miss my mom and my career; and (4) there are certain members of my family that are bat shit crazy, and they don't even know who they are. If they read this blog, they would be all, "I wonder who that is, because it's not me."

Herein we learned that one can be a size 2 or a drinker, but not both. And, also, that I need to pull my shit together.

Picture of Betty With Issues - blogs.amctv.com

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