Hello, my name is...

Friends, I’ve reached a new low. I might need some sort of advanced assistance.

Last night, after the midweek movie, I was working on some things and realized it was well after midnight, which is a wee bit past this princess’ bedtime. I did my cursory walk around the house, checking the doors, making sure everything’s off; you know the drill. I loaded into my arms the shoes that rarely make it back to the closet, some books I’d used for research, and my phone, you know, all the things that needed to find their way upstairs before the producers of Hoarders showed up to film the clutter. I get to my room and realize I’ve brought along an unopened can of Diet Mt. Dew, which, as you probably know, is the only thing that makes me remotely human in the mornings. And, did I think, “Why did I bring that? Silly me.”

Of course not.

My thought was, “Cool! I don’t have to walk back downstairs in the morning before my shower. Why don’t I bring a drink up every night?” It’s a sad, sad state of affairs, my friends, and a whole new level of lazy when you realize you don’t want to walk down a few stairs to get a drink. I know this. And yet, I’ll probably do it again… tonight.

I wish I could be one of those girls who leaps out of bed in the morning looking like a runway model, who drinks only water, always eats good-for-you food, and loves to work out. Sadly, I only leap out of bed when I hear the garbage truck and realize I forgot to take the can to the curb. And then I hope I beat the garbage truck to the curb so as to not frighten the workers. I detest the boring necessity that is water and I firmly believe that cold pizza and brownies are the makings of a perfect breakfast. I’ve tried almost every workout known to woman in a never-ending quest to find something that I actually enjoy (and I’ve found a few really fun things but I’ll save them for other blogs).

Why am I telling you this? I’m telling you this because as much as I’m going to try to be a positive voice on this blog, there will be days that just won’t happen. I’m just a regular gal and you’ll learn that I do regular gal things. I work full time in a job I love most of the time with people who make me laugh all of the time. I have a few part time jobs that you’ll hear about along the way. I’m dating and the tales of those disasters will show up here eventually, I’m sure. I don’t have children but I hope to someday; currently, I have a houseplant, Eliot, and that’s working just fine for me. In some respects, it’s a pretty simple little life.

But in all the simply wonderful vanilla that is my world, I throw in some sprinkles. I wear red heels to work on Fridays (when the boss isn’t there- and if you could not mention it to him, that'd be OK with me!). I’ve never broken a bone but I spend some part of almost every weekend with people who fight for fun. When I go somewhere, I pack pearls and heat. I scrapbook while yelling at the quarterback on TV. I sing in the shower like I think I’m Reba McIntyre but I hate getting up in front of groups. I’m a little bit of this, a little bit of that, and a whole lot of things I’ve not tried yet. Maybe I’m still finding myself? Or maybe I’ve already found me in a million tiny places.

I write this blog because “my words are plentiful and need room to breathe” (Steve Carlson) and I thank you for taking time out of your day to read it. Sweet dreams, friends, and may you have a brownie breakfast awaiting you when you rise and shine tomorrow.