It's a yucky, drizzly rainy day. It's also cold. It seems like the perfect day to curl up with a heating pad, a diet Pepsi, a bottle of Advil and last night's episode of Grey's Anatomy and wallow in the fact that my uterus is having a temper tantrum.
Except my heating pad is packed and even worse than that, I think it's already at the new house.
The Advil is taking forever to work. The Diet Pepsi is cold though, and ohhh so good.
Last night I went to book club and I will admit now, that I think I am broken when it comes to book club. Out of the last 12 books we have read I have liked maybe two of them. Everyone else seems to like them. What's my deal? I just want to be entertained. Is that too much to ask?
But....everyone else seems entertained. Most of the time.
I must be broken. All books entertain, of course. There is a girl at book club who is entertained by every book she reads. She just accepts it for what it is and allows it to entertain her. Why can't I do that? Is it a euphemism for my life? Am I refusing to be entertained? I might be missing the fun.
My PVR keeps skipping. It's so annoying.
I think the Advil just kicked in. The pain has diminished and I am no longer making sense. I should go back to bed.
Last night, at book club, I was looking around the room and I was thinking how fun it would be to write a short story based on all the women in my club. Fiction, of course, but use them and their personalities as the characters. It would be fun. And funny. I wonder how many of them would agree. Probably not many.
Grey's just got real sad-like.
I'm supposed to bake a couple pies for a potluck tomorrow. Geez, how old-fashioned did that sound? But I think my uterus and I just voted for one of those gigantic pies from Costco.
Happy weekend everyone. I have some *packing to do.
*That may or may not be code for something else.