I am very aware of my AWOL'ness these past few days. While I could give you a list of the things that have gotten in the way of your When the Godiva is Gone blog reading pleasure, I won't. Suffice it to say that I've been busy. Really busy. I am so supremely busy, it's taken me 5 weeks to get to the grocery store. Yes. I said 5 weeks. It got so bad that I didn't even have water in my fridge. Sure, the husband and I were able to eat out twice a day, but that is some serious jeopardy for the waistline as well as the fact that that even gets monotonous. I do like vegetables not strewn in butter soup now and then. Not to mention fresh fruit. I don't even like butter. . . .
Anyhow, I did manage to get to the grocery store twice yesterday. Once for lunch fixings and the other for dinner ingredients. In between, I managed to wake the graveyard working husband to attend the Pink Martini concert yesterday afternoon. Free tickets from a neighbor and a really good time. I still have the major grocery shop to finish, as well as to mow the yard and plant more bushes. I'm not even going to mention the flowers I have to plant - besides, the squirrels seems to think flower roots are their very own personal gourmet meal. I'm about to go and buy out this entire Longhorn city of its Cajun-burn-the-mouth-seasonings . . .
Finally, once the husband awakes today, we'll be hitting the CompuTrainer where he has informed me that I must begin to train on hills. For at least an hour. An hour of riding hills. Do you know what that will do to me?
the husband: you do realize that you have to start riding up some hills, right?
me: uh. *zombies*
the husband: you need to do that.
me: ugh. *zombies everywhere*
the husband: Jen. . . . *exasperation*
me: uh. I. Don't. Want. To.
the husband: it'll be good for you.
me: um. is there such a thing as easy hills? *what do you mean there is no tooth fairy*
the husband: *laughter*
me: seriously. I hate hills. I don't just sound like I'm dying going up a hill - I AM DYING.
the husband: it won't kill you.
me: what if I do die, then what?
the husband: you won't die.
me: what if I do?
the husband: you are not going to die riding your bike up a hill.
me: how do you know that?
the husband: because I do.
me: well, if I do die you're gonna feel bad. . .
the husband: You. Are. Not. Going. To. Die.
me: I could. . . .
the husband: cutitout! *walks away*
me: ugh. grrmph. mmmrzzzph. *more zombies again*
Currently, I am awaiting a call from my bank to inform me of my escrow situation where I can then politely turn around and share said information with my accountant. Taxes are such a lovely thing.
Today's list has only just begun and somehow is growing like sea monkeys.
Anyhow, I did manage to get to the grocery store twice yesterday. Once for lunch fixings and the other for dinner ingredients. In between, I managed to wake the graveyard working husband to attend the Pink Martini concert yesterday afternoon. Free tickets from a neighbor and a really good time. I still have the major grocery shop to finish, as well as to mow the yard and plant more bushes. I'm not even going to mention the flowers I have to plant - besides, the squirrels seems to think flower roots are their very own personal gourmet meal. I'm about to go and buy out this entire Longhorn city of its Cajun-burn-the-mouth-seasonings . . .
Finally, once the husband awakes today, we'll be hitting the CompuTrainer where he has informed me that I must begin to train on hills. For at least an hour. An hour of riding hills. Do you know what that will do to me?
the husband: you do realize that you have to start riding up some hills, right?
me: uh. *zombies*
the husband: you need to do that.
me: ugh. *zombies everywhere*
the husband: Jen. . . . *exasperation*
me: uh. I. Don't. Want. To.
the husband: it'll be good for you.
me: um. is there such a thing as easy hills? *what do you mean there is no tooth fairy*
the husband: *laughter*
me: seriously. I hate hills. I don't just sound like I'm dying going up a hill - I AM DYING.
the husband: it won't kill you.
me: what if I do die, then what?
the husband: you won't die.
me: what if I do?
the husband: you are not going to die riding your bike up a hill.
me: how do you know that?
the husband: because I do.
me: well, if I do die you're gonna feel bad. . .
the husband: You. Are. Not. Going. To. Die.
me: I could. . . .
the husband: cutitout! *walks away*
me: ugh. grrmph. mmmrzzzph. *more zombies again*
Currently, I am awaiting a call from my bank to inform me of my escrow situation where I can then politely turn around and share said information with my accountant. Taxes are such a lovely thing.
Today's list has only just begun and somehow is growing like sea monkeys.
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2 comments:
Okay, I'm definitely trying that chili thing on my plants. That's still organic, right?
And, uh, isn't a bit late to be doing your taxes? Today's the last day isn't it?
jqoza: Scots for hot tub.
I sent my schtuff in two-weeks ago. I know, it's a leetol beet late. . . Long story of blame of which I refuse to go into. B/C utltimately, it was the husband. . . . errrrr. . . I mean, us that didn't get 'er done, as they say in Texas.
Anyhow, we're working with the accountant all day to tie up last minute details. Hey, if it saves us money (unfortunately, probably not saving our accountant a major migraine or a heart defibbing process), I'm going to do it!
Note to Accountant: I will pay for my sins. This will not happen next year. Rushing off to overnight our HSA immediately. Promise - on all 3 levels!
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