I have a new set of sheets in the washer right now. They are made of bamboo. Or rayon made from bamboo with a cotton blend to make them washable. I hope when they come out of the dryer that they are just as soft as they seemed in the store. I’m not sure why I’m buying new sheets when I should be buying new pillows or a proper duvet. Or an alarm clock that wakes me up in time to go go.
Since moving my computer to my desk, my back is to my kitchen. Which means I get to write and surf the net without the constant guilt from the looking pile of dishes I need to do. What I learned yesterday is that I DO have to rinse (perhaps even pre-wash) the dishes before putting them in the dishwasher. Not prewashing the bowl with olive oil and hysop on it, I now have a top rack full of glasses with a wierd olive oil-hysop-dishsoap grime on it. Aren’t dishwashers supposed to make my home life easier? Isn’t this
2005 2006? Shouldn’t even the cheapest piece of crap the developer put in my condo get olive oil off of bowls and not put it onto my glasses?
Even though they still haven’t put my name on the essay I wrote, I’m going to give you the links to my pieces on Shebrew. Why? Cause I’m incredibly impatient and trust that the editors will put my name with my essay (and publish my long essay on conversion.)
I’ve had an upset stomach/GI tract since Christmas. After I recovered from the Christmas Virus, things never quite evened out. Yesterday things were finally working properly and I ruined it with a latte and a cheesy pizza. I know that my body doesn’t do dairy too well anymore. Sometimes it makes me gross and bloated, but more often it races through me like there is a world record at stake. Or I just get gas and thank God that I only live with a cat who doesn’t care if I fart. (Do you hear that click? The sound of all potential boyfriends closing the browser.)
Sometimes I wonder about what my body will do when I’m pregnant. I mean, if some foods make me so bloated that I look three months pregnant–will I look 6 months pregnant when I’m really just bloated and three months pregnant? And in case that fantasy life isn’t enough–how about a romantic night of dinner & great sex? It will obviously have to come in the reverse order–because what if the food doesn’t agree with my body and wants to make a hasty exit?
These are the things I worry about when I’m highly caffienated and lactosed. Yes, I know. How about I give my worries a rest and try meeting someone instead? Or how about I go to the doctor or a dietician and figure out what I’m really sensitive to? Or go back on WW for real, track my food and see what sits well and what doesn’t?
I’m still frustrated with my editing ability/patience. Even though my book draft was made infinitely easier by blogging, the editing is overwhelming. I need to have someone read it for content and tell me where I need transitions or more information. I can’t look at it and judge it anymore–too close to home.