One must have goals. Mustn't one? (Say "mustn't one" three times fast. Does it sound like a rancid appetizer? No? Must just be me then. Huh.) So. Goals. Having them. Here were my goals today. Let's call them my "goals". As opposed to my "real" goals. My on the DL goals.
My "Goals": Get up, go to locally-owned, non-chain, coffee place that I heart. Preferably with my Sweet Baboo. Come home. Clean the entire house in, like, 2o minutes. Take the dog to the groomer to get nails cut. (I could totally do it if I HAD to, but the nail quick part kind of ooks me out. And, the groomer totally cut one to the quick and it looks like it hurts, but she is a professional and probably wouldn't start sobbing if it happened. Just sayin'.) Go work out. Lose 12 pounds in three minutes because of said stellar workout. Come home, shower and do something productive. Go to department Christmas party. Come home. Sleep through 3:30 am, unlike the last two weeks.
Now, those are my goals on paper. Let's look at my "real" goals. My "Answer Like a Guy" goals. (We play "A.L.A.G." a lot at our house. I tend to use a lot of words. Ones that might or might not need to be said out loud. I verbally vomit my thoughts as I think them and share my whole process of decision making. Which doesn't really work out well for the audience because I am not convinced that, if I had to, I could make a decision to save my life.
Seriously, like "K. You must choose a favorite color or we kill you. K. Go." And most likely, my answer would be something like this: "OH, oh my...okay. Uhm, my favorite color is green because I really like the different shades and my eyes are green and it signifies new life, but I also like red because it is bold and fiery and the color of watermelon which is also green so it sort of works out perfectly because red and green are my two favorite colors. It's like Christmas, but I also really like the silver at Christmas time with a bright, bright blue or another jewel tone. I can't really pick a favorite color because it is totally situational. Sorry. Kill me." At which point the listener-slash-killer in the story has killed himself.
The A.L.A.G. version: "K. You must choose a favorite color or we kill you. K. Go." Me: "Green. See ya.")
Back to my goals: Here's how it has gone so far.....let's call them what my "Goals" should have been because then this day would be a RockStar success:
Wake up and stay in bed next to the Space Heater. Watch the light and day emerge. Make a real breakfast of toast, eggs, and breakfast sausage. Screw the fancy coffee and make a pretty damn good cup of coffee. Make lunch for Sweet Baboo. I heart him, and I make his lunches with extra love most days. Correction: On the days I do make him lunch, it is with extra love. Check e mail for the first time in three days. (That is like a bajillion years in So...There...Then Time. Seriously.) Fart around and putter for about 45 minutes. Take Sophie to the dog groomers (Thing Number Two I will Never EVER Do To My Dog: Express the anal glands. Enough said.) Go workout. Decide to listen to music and read trash celebrity mag while sweating instead of the planned "Think Deep Thoughts About My Life". Worked out much better this way.)
After work out, came home. Checked my e mail. Farted around and puttered some more. What? I am really good at it. I did, purely for show, dust the buffet and the shelves. Oh, and watered plants.
Turns out that when my mom brought over a Christmas Rosemary Tree yesterday it was a double whammy good gift. We don't have a Christmas tree this year, so...done. And it also turns out I committed my 39th planticide. My rosemary that I transplanted from the garden to a pot so I could have it inside over the winter. Friggin' died. All on it's own. It was like it wanted to make me feel all bad and killer-y. The new Rosemary Christmas Tree came with a booklet that specifically said: "Rosemary is a plant that will not come back from too little water as a houseplant." Great. Is this common knowledge? That is my main approach to plant care. "Oops. Forgot to water the last two weeks, they look kind of droopy." Then I water the crap out of them and they come back to life and look good. (Usually. Thus the 39th planticide discovered this week.)
So. There. Then I went to The Crack Box(Target) and got a gift for the party tonight. Then, to pick up Sophs. Home for lunch and blogging.
That should have been my original plan. I think next time I take a PTO day I will have official plans to do whatever the crap I want. Which is what I end up doing anyway. Plans are overrated.
I might take a nap. I might not. It might matter, it might not. The point is, people, everyone should have a figurative day to hangout in their jammies with the footies on the bottom and play with legos. There doesn't always need to be something to be done or dealt with. Having said that, at some point today, I do PLAN on vacuuming up the half of a dead cricket that has been at the top of the staircase for the past week. I guess maybe we should have some goals. My original plan of ignoring it and it disappearing doesn't appear to be working out so much.
