"Too short," would be Chicken Little's response every. single. Monday. Or Tuesday, I guess, if we had a Monday holiday. It feels like a standard, canned Corporate America response.
But man, sometimes is so fucking true. I could have used more time for cooking, baking, cleaning, resting, working, drinking, sleeping ... blah, blah, blah. Oh well.
After complaining in my last post about the dog being kind of an asshole this weekend, I was missing her something fierce this morning already. I would have been missing her last night if I hadn't been so damn exhausted. I was in bed at 11:00 for the second night in a row. I can't ever fucking get to bed that early when I have to go to work the next day. Shit, it's 10:15 and I'm still eating my steak salad I made 45 minutes ago. There's no way I'll be in bed by 11:00.
I'm at least not feeling as horribly sad as I have been feeling over the weekend. I cried when The Boy I Currently Like drove out of the driveway on Saturday. The sadness was kinda crushing today, but it eventually evaporated when I made a farting noise with my dish washing gloves.
Looking back at my last post, I see I left something out. My brother showed up unexpectedly while I was making dinner for me and The Boy. None of my family members were supposed to be around, much less making surprise visits. However, I can't say I was totally surprised. Okay, I wasn't surprised at all. I fear I worried The Boy a bit more than I should have, because he was thinking my brother was going to stay, based on what I was saying. But he just stopped by on the way home from golfing, ostensibly to check on the dog. *insert over-the-top-eye-roll here*
Anyway, it went fine and my brother wasn't a jerk and now The Boy has met at least one of my family members. Of course, I wanted him to meet my brother last because my brother was the one who was the biggest jerk about having to meet him.
I don't know how to end this, so I'm ending it.