Saturday Afternoon Bullets

• I am waiting for the floors to dry, trying to convince the dog that he should stay on his pillow.
• It’s not working.  He’s trying to find an alternate route.
• Contemplating going to yoga today, but am actually having fun making the house look like we HAVEN’T just been robbed.
• It hasn’t been this clean since last fall.
• Really.
• One of my clients is likely putting her dog to sleep this afternoon, I’m thinking of that a lot as I scrub and vacuum.
• Vacuum is surprisingly hard to spell.
• We are going to a BBQ this evening at our friend Rob’s place.  He is a great cook.  I am already thinking of what I will indulge in and what I will not.  I have zero anxiety about this for the first time, like, ever.
• I weighed myself this morning, and found I have lost 10 lbs. 
• Since January.
• Slow, but steady, wins the race.
• I realized today that I haven’t had coffee in about 2 weeks.  Not sure if I should go out and buy a latte or just be okay with that.
• I don’t even miss it.
• I’m not sure I recognize myself.
• I am thankful for the clouds today, so it’s cooler for housework and I don’t feel guilty for the spending the day inside.
• It’s a good thing it’s not hotter; I am sweating like a whore in church and can’t imagine the mess I’d be if it were hotter.
• I am officially in love with bullety posts.  This is a fun way to write.  And I hope to read.  Lots of random information, not much space.  Yay.
• Floors are dry.
• Will now carry on with the rest of the house.  Will go for a run instead of yoga, me thinks.

Magazines

When I first met my husband, it was a bit of a joke between us for me to point “Dos” and “Don’ts” as I saw them – he started to learn what was and was not acceptable to wearing outside of the house (I honestly can’t believe what people put on and actually approve as nice-looking before leaving the house in the morning).  This all came from the faithful reading of Glamour magazine, which I purchased each month, along with Cosmopolitan and occasionally Mademoiselle.  While I enjoyed them a little, I came to realize that they:

• seem to print the same articles ALL.  THE. TIME.  They just change the title and the headline, but all they aver tell you is how to tell if your man is cheating, what your lipstick shade tells about you, and how to dress your size 2 body
• don’t make me feel all that nice about myself – I was never particularly bothered by the images in the photos of perfect women whom you cannot imagine doing anything remotely unglamorous, like fart (we all do it, let’s stop the charade), but I was bothered that the images never SPOKE to me – I couldn’t afford all the clothes, I was never going to prance around in a bikini in the 3 weeks they were promising.  I’m real.
• are a gargantuan waste of money and paper

So I stopped buying them.

I replaced this void in my life with home improvement magazines: Canadian House and Home, Style at Home, Martha Stewart Living etc, but soon came to feel as if my home was never going to be good enough, that no one else on the planet has dog hair bunnies under the furniture, that no one else curses sunny days for illuminating the paw prints, nose juice, and filth on the windows of my home.  I started feeling about my home the way that a lot of women feel about their bodies when looking at fashion and beauty magazines.  Ironic, no?

Today, my magazine addiction is mostly cured: I delved into athletic magazines for awhile, but soon realized that like the rest of them, they seem to regurgitate articles and themes to keep them appealing, and that they are a monumental waste of paper, money, and clutter-free space in my home.  I don’t subscribe to any (but am considering getting Runner’s World again because I am just that retarded and think things will be different this time), and only buy one when we are headed out on an airplane or an article screams to me from the newsstand.  I think in this case, ignorance is bliss – I don’t want to be reminded of my messy home or that I might be no where near bikini ready in only three short weeks.

Home, sweet home?

I was home this past weekend, after spending the last thousand of them (give or take) either away from home, or so busy that I just stopped in for a giant glass of wine  change of clothes and a shower.  I thought I was missing so much and was just longing for some time to catch up on life there.

Feast or famine – this weekend I spent more time than I really should have wished for at home.  With B-Man (husband) and the pets.  Not that I don’t love them, because I mostly do.  But, hmm.  I think I must have cleaned the kitchen about 14 times, and I learnt that apparently B-Man was somehow not aware, even after 5 years  in our home, that we actually have a dishwasher.  Why else would he constantly leave dishes in the sink, all by themselves?  Even an impromptu tour of the kitchen didn’t seem to help.  I did laundry, defunked some floor mats, cooked, baked, threw things out.  And felt a little bored.  It’s not a Bad Pace, but it’s a different pace.   

As much as I loathe being away from home and never seeming to stop to smell the dog shit in the backyard, that did offer me a certain something that was missing.