Okay, I Promise

I promise I'll be a better blogger from now on. I know - it's been kind of dreary around here lately. It's frankly a little dreary in my soul at the moment - nothing life shattering, but this time of year seems to be kind of tough on me. I know, everyone's supposed to love springing forward and getting sunlight in the evenings but hey, I'm the one who's now out in the pitch black darkness trying to walk the dogs. And I'm busy as hell right now so it tends to be pitch black by the time I get home anyway. And the weather! And the kids! And the long distance part of the relationship! And the living situation insecurity! And the weird noise the car is making! And the lack of money! Waaaaaaaa! So, yeah: whine, whine, a fine local whine. I think I'll start back up on the fish oil, much to everyone's relief, and, not so much to everyone's relief, I need to start taking more pictures again too. Not one a day - never again - but perhaps we could shoot for 3 a week or so.

Anyway, this morning while I was walking the dogs through the darkness (actually, I took them out yesterday in the warm rain and it was surprisingly fun - better than the cold wind and dark clouds this morning) I made a vow that I would blog every day that I have computer access starting now and continuing until early May. Uh, by the way, I'm leaving for Charleston again tomorrow and I won't be back until Monday and I probably won't have any computer access there, so, um, yeah. Still. I swear. It's a vow.

In accordance with this vow, even though I have nothing much to say, I'm going to inflict it on you. Yay. Therefore, we're going to talk now about retail therapy and how much I need some, because I hate all my clothes. All of them, except, that is, the thin ones which I can't wear until I lose 10 or 15 or 20 pounds (like that's going to happen.) But the ones that I can wear? That fit? Suck. Suck completely, and even though I recognize that this is partly or mostly the time of year, I have this deep seated wish to go out and buy a whole new better wardrobe. In black, naturally. I think if I just had the right black skirt and the right black top and maybe the right white men's shirt to go over it all in a piquant and charming vaguely French inspired look that would also camouflage my sadly over 40 upper arms and the teenager weight around my middle (that's like pregnancy weight, only it happens because your teenager is driving you so crazy you have no option but to eat brownies and drink beer or else you will go insane) and maybe some new shoes and definitely some new tights and new jeans that actually fit, like the dearly departed ones the dog ate, then perhaps I would be completely happy. Or if I could find three more pairs of those fabulous black corduroys I bought at Belks three years ago which have turned out to be the only article of clothing I own that's worth a damn, but, alas, as we all know, the minute you find pants you like the manufacturer gets taken over by the jellyfish people from Jupiter, who promptly discontinue your clothing with a high pitched cackle of evil laughter at you thrown in - and don't even get me started on the evil interstellar alien lipstick cartel.

So I'm seriously considering taking some of the money that I should be dutifully saving for a house - hey, I finished my housing class! I got a certificate and everything! Now I just have to find a house in West Asheville in my price range (ha. ha ha. ha ha so very ha, motherfuckers. I don't care. There's a house out there for me. I believe in miracles. Shut UP, small voice of logic doom.) and also overcome my fear of telephones and make some appointments with mortgage people! - and going to Ross Dress for Less and Marshalls and TJ Maxx and Old Navy and every other big, fluorescently lit clothing store I can think of and just going wild. Wild, I tell you. I'll be poor, but I'll be nicely presented.