My lilacs are blooming, most of the trees are budding, I have a lovely tulip arrangement on my kitchen windowsill courtesy of my garden. So what’s the problem? It’s going to be forty degrees with a chance of snow on Sunday! Please shoot me now. I don’t care how cozy it is in the house, I want sunshine and warm weather now!
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It drives me absolutely insane when my feet stick to my kitchen floor. Mop it, you lazy slattern, I can hear you thinking. I mop the damn floor at least once a week, and so does Dan. It’s just feels like it’s perpetually sticky. Jude has this habit of throwing his cup into the sink when he is done with it, whether or not it is still full of juice or milk or whatever. Probably why the stupid floor is always sticky. And the backyard is currently a mud pit so anytime you take the trash out, you track in huge clods of mud and leaves. It could just be my OCD kicking in - see below.
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Is it possible for a drug’s efficacy to wear down/off, even if you are taking the proper dose at the right times, exactly as directed? I feel like my Zoloft has been replaced with sugar pills. I need to talk to my shrink about this – it’s probably just pregnancy hormones, but I am starting to lose my mind. The whole point of taking the Zoloft through the pregnancy was to not to inflict Monster Mama on Si and Jude, and yet they are having to deal with at least Mini-Monster Mama anyway. Although in *my* defense, Simon is at that exasperating stage where every request or directive is met with, “Why? I don’t want to.” And Jude is as stubborn as the day is long. If he doesn’t get what he wants to eat, he pushes it away and cries and cries. It’s normal, but it’s still wearing on my nerves.
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Elizabeth George’s new book is riveting. I am about halfway through, and
I don’t want to do anything but sit and read it. Preferably in a nice, warm, lavender-scented bath. Ahhhhh. Not gonna happen this weekend. Sigh.
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