Ha! Made you look, didn’t I?
So the allergies that I had seem to have morphed into a nasty cold. I still can’t breathe, and I’m still mad as heck that the world outside my windows is sunny and cheerful. And today, all I wanted to do was wallow. I just wanted to wallow around my house like a big, wallowing … thing. (And, truthfully, it’s kind of fun to type the word “wallow” repeatedly. But I’ll stop. I promise. Okay. I’ll try.)
A big part of not feeling one’s best is being comfortable and squidgy and just not caring. And, for me, that means no pants. Not NO pants … but no “real” pants. You know, sweatpants or pajama pants instead of jeans or slacks or a skirt. I guess, technically, a skirt doesn’t count as “pants”, but they are evil. So I feel they should be lumped in there with pants, particularly on days when I’m feeling whiny and under the weather.
But the world doesn’t work that way. My dogs are out of food. If they don’t get food, they might decide to eat me. I think they will try for the cat first, but I have to face facts: my dogs are wimps, and the cat’s no pushover. And I have to sleep eventually. My kid is out of food, too. Why does everyone and everything in my house insist on eating? It’s really annoying. Also, my daughter has this weird obsession with me picking her up after school is over for the day. I think it would be much more efficient if she just set up a cot in the cafeteria, because we would never be late again. But she is really weird about wanting to sleep in her own bed. And get love and stuff. Kids — what’re you gonna do?
All of this means that I have to go to school and get the kid. And I have to go to the grocery store. And so, I am sitting here, still plotting ways in which I can kill off Spring, grumbling under my breath as I type this. And yes, for the record … I am wearing pants. But I split the difference between comfort and society’s expectations; they are my “fat pants”. Hey, I’m not perfect. I think summoning up the energy to shame myself into putting on pants for perfect strangers counts as a win. Maybe not every day, but, for today, it’s enough.
Which is good. Because it’s all I’ve got.
And just so I don’t disappoint those of you who came here expecting a picture, here you go: