Mother's day
A day wherein Mother's are thanked for their service to life. And I'm grateful for it. Co-worker got me a candle, roommate got me a record....
Husband got me doughnuts for breakfast, easily forgetting that I don't really like them anymore. Lunch is ramen, because we don't have other food that isn't stricken towards a future supper and even if it wasn't, it's cabinet scraps.
"But Arma," you might say, confused as to why this is a big enough problem for me to complain about. "Why don't you just make a menu and buy groceries? Use that proactive laziness you promote so much."
Good point, except I don't have that option. I don't do the shopping, I don't pay for the food, I don't get choices in what we're having except 'Do you want A or B' and I appreciate the efforts of those that do hold such mundane power, but I'm not a teenager or a third shift working mom anymore. I'd like some control about what goes into my face hole.
This waistline doesn't maintain itself you know, and my appetite is a bitch.
I've been living like this for about 3 1/2 out of the 10 or 11 years I've been in this damned state. The south is great, don't get me wrong; they're all very friendly and hospitable, if you go to the right places and ignore the crazies that I know are in every city, but it's smothering me. I don't belong down here.
That's not the point.
The point is that I've got less control over my life then I need. Need, that's right, like water, or air or time to myself.
But the short time that I've gotten has passed. Maybe I'll pour out more later.
Husband got me doughnuts for breakfast, easily forgetting that I don't really like them anymore. Lunch is ramen, because we don't have other food that isn't stricken towards a future supper and even if it wasn't, it's cabinet scraps.
"But Arma," you might say, confused as to why this is a big enough problem for me to complain about. "Why don't you just make a menu and buy groceries? Use that proactive laziness you promote so much."
Good point, except I don't have that option. I don't do the shopping, I don't pay for the food, I don't get choices in what we're having except 'Do you want A or B' and I appreciate the efforts of those that do hold such mundane power, but I'm not a teenager or a third shift working mom anymore. I'd like some control about what goes into my face hole.
This waistline doesn't maintain itself you know, and my appetite is a bitch.
I've been living like this for about 3 1/2 out of the 10 or 11 years I've been in this damned state. The south is great, don't get me wrong; they're all very friendly and hospitable, if you go to the right places and ignore the crazies that I know are in every city, but it's smothering me. I don't belong down here.
That's not the point.
The point is that I've got less control over my life then I need. Need, that's right, like water, or air or time to myself.
But the short time that I've gotten has passed. Maybe I'll pour out more later.