Chicken Soup for the Soles

So we didn’t win the lottery on Friday.

Same shit, different date, I know. I’m not entirely unrealistic in my expectations. But it’s been a bad couple of weeks for me health-wise, and it would’ve been really nice if this had been the draw that rescued me from the job that drains all my energy and the stifling hot bedroom with zero air circulation that won’t let me have a proper sleep to build up any new energy to drain.

Although it’s probably best that we didn’t win this week. Turns out there were four winning tickets in total, and Nutty Hubby and I don’t like to share, and it might look just the slightest bit suspicious if all the other winners mysteriously disappeared.

So we’re not millionaires, and we’re not murderers. I guess there are worse things.

Cave Johnson and I are bad at optimism.

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Why I sleep with otters.*

(*Because I don’t have enough weird fetishes represented in my search terms as it is.)

I fail at sleeping.

If there’s one thing I will forever be jealous of, it’s Nutty Hubby’s ability to fall asleep at the drop of a hat. He can nod off in almost any environment, no matter how public, loud or uncomfortable, in five minutes or less.

For me, trying to sleep means it’s time for every little solitary minute detail of the world to come flooding into my head for thorough dissection and analysis; a maze of intrigue created by my brain, to be solved before I am allowed the sweet respite of slumber.

For Nutty Hubby, trying to sleep is…wait, trying? People have to try to sleep? No no no no no. Do or do not, there is no try! LOL BRB ZZZZZzzZZzzzzzzZzzzzzzzzzzzz…

If I didn’t love him so much, I’d hate him.

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Life is too short for boring socks.

It’s been said often, and with good reason: it really is about the little things.

I didn’t feel like writing today. I haven’t felt like doing much of anything all week. Getting out of bed this morning and yesterday was a struggle; Monday and Tuesday I was too out of it to even bother putting up the fight. I’m sick of being sick, I’m tired of being tired, and my energy reserves are running on empty. But at least I have my goddamn Tweety Bird socks on. And that matters more than you might think.

Hold on to your hats, we’re going to get all real in here for a moment.

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