un muse

If it isn't obvious by the lack of interesting shit lately, I've been lacking inspiration. As much as I love to talk about the mundane, that's exactly what it's been lately. Go to work, come home, repeat.

Been thinking a lot about decluttering. Which is neither exciting or new, as I go through this phase every so often.

I came across this pin which contains simple steps (yay, simple steps to simplify things!)

I haven't actually started following the steps, just kept them in the back of my mind. The other day, I counted 4 sets of measuring spoons. I have 6 lunch boxes. No less than 3 partial sets of note cards (I do love note cards and note pads and booklets. They're good for making lists. Perhaps I should write more notes). An overflowing drawer full of underwear. An extra bag of socks tucked away on the top shelf of the closet. (I blame mom for those). At the same time, I have 1 pair of jeans that fits only fresh out of the dryer, and several tops hanging in the closet that haven't been touched in about 6 months.
I love the idea of owning only what you use on a regular basis, instead of having a house full of things that get stashed out of the way and forgotten.

*abrupt topic change* The other day someone had written a phrase on a white board with an inappropriate apostrophe, so I swiped it off with my finger when I walked by. It brought me great pleasure every time I saw it afterward.

Dude, I'm about to pay April's bills. Where has the year gone? See ya, first quarter.
Speaking of paying bills, I got a raise and a bonus. I didn't mention it to anyone because I don't really know why. It's just the annual merit raise; it wasn't for anything special. It just means I didn't fuck up enough for them to take it away. The bonus was for being a general badass, but that's also nothing special. It's just how I roll.
I plan to put the bonus cash in savings, but it's oh so tempting to treat myself to something like new pants or bras or something frivolous like a pretty overpriced lamp. But then there's the impending potential wedding reception and the kitchen redo that I have in the back of my mind as the next thing (after the new siding and gutters and windows all that exterior stuff). Long story short, even when there's more money, there's never enough.

I have an ambitious list of things that I'd like to accomplish tomorrow starting with the 8am follow up gastroenterologist appointment. But... 8am on my day off, and my stomach has actually been behaving. Even though I think they charge for skipped appointments, it seems pointless to get up at 8am to pay $35 to tell the Dr. I feel okay.

Yes, I feel okay. You read that right. After the experimental treatment, I decided to give it some time to declare it a success-- or partial success. Or anything. But honestly I've felt different. Sometimes good, sometimes bad, but overall- different. Different is fucking amazing. Like you have no idea. Different is mostly good. Good enough to determine what triggers the bad-- and differentiate good from bad. Which is extremely hopeful because I wasn't able to do that before because everything was bad. The most obvious triggers? Too much sugar, eating too much in general. Which is usually a little more than my usual rations, but if that's a trigger, I can deal with that. Make fun of my tiny portions, fuckers. At least I feel good.
I have been listening to my body and when I ignore it I usually regret it. Since I completed the treatment, I've gone from feeling bad 90% of the time to feeling good 80% of the time. If I work on my diet, that should improve. Fuck, all these years and all I needed was some hardcore antibiotics. Was it really H. Pylori? I don't know. I will probably never know. All I know for sure is I like these new statistics.
At this point I would usually say now it's time to work out and get my body back in shape, but I still feel like that's too ambitious and I'm still healing. I'm still tired but I can feel myself getting stronger. Every day that passes, I get a little more confident that this is for real and it isn't temporary. It's almost like it's too good to be true and I'm timidly accepting it. No, not almost. That's how it is. I'm afraid I'll declare myself healed and then I will relapse into shit central and make a liar out of myself. Because, you know, history. This is a very huge thing for me. like astronomical. Because my life is centered around this. I've spent years and years adapting to living in a shithole for a body. And now I might have a chance to change it all? Mind. fucking. blown.

*Time out for a few observations*
Observation #1. Wine is a very good muse.
Observation #2. The use of the word FUCK correlates with the number of glasses of wine consumed.
Observation #3. Thank the good Lord wine is not [usually] a trigger.

I've been listening to aol radio waiting for Uptown Funk to come on because that's what I really want to hear and it hasn't played yet. What the hell is that about man?

Anyway I'm also doing laundry and I'm still disappointed that Desperate Housewives was removed from Netflix before I had a chance to finish because tonight I'd be watching the shit out of it. We upgraded our cable because they offered us a good deal and maybe it'll be on demand or something. At least they put Friends on Netflix because nostalgia.

So Chris asked me to wash his camping blanket so I did and that was no big deal. Except when it came out of the wash it smelled like farts- like sulfur farts. And I want to be like, 'Christopher WTF" but he's not here- he's actually camping- so I don't know why it smells like farts. But I'll dry it and see if that takes away the fart smell. An extra fabric softener sheet should do the trick, right?

You know how in the 90's it got really popular to put baby noises in songs? WHY is that coming back?? I heard a song the other day like that and it's really not cool. (BTW now I'm totally jamming to Are you that Somebody- call me old but I'm really digging the lack of oily butt cheeks in this music video)

Well I'm out of wine and I'm not about to commit to another bottle. Kitty is curled up in her bunker and we're both enjoying the lack of dog. I'll probably read this tomorrow and it will be all rambly and full of typos. Jury's still out on tomorrow's dr. appt...

I'll let you know how that all goes.