decisions, decisions, decisions.

decision 1:  i decided not to comb (who says comb?) brush my hair because i had to take him to the airport at 3 pm.  and he always says "i really like your hair" when it looks the worse.  so today when i looked in the mirror and it looked especially bad,  i thought...uh huh...he will love my hair.  so i brushed my teeth and promptly walked out of the bathroom.

decision 2:  i have a hole in the bottom of my foot.  i wanna think it is from running like a crazy person, unfortunately i think it is from walking like a normal person, although it is a large wound on the bottom of my foot.  i made the decision to wear flip flops even though tennis shoes are the shoe of choice since my injury.  all other shoes (flip flops) just make it hurt.  since i was going for the no-brush-in-the-hair look and a short skirt, i figured adding tennis shoes to the ensemble would make me look like a mall walker instead of just not put together in the best possible way.  possible.

decision 3:  after being disconnected three times, i decided that it was not in my best interest or blood pressure to call bessie back.

decision 4:  i decided that giving lil bit my spoon was not going to happen.  i was keeping my spoon today.  it's tough love people.  here's the thing...i eat my cereal with her in the mornings.  she eats cereal and blueberries at her high chair while screaming every time i take a bite because she wants my spoon.  (today the screaming might have been my hair)  i kept it til i had eaten every bite and then gave it to her.  so she could see it for 1.2 seconds before she flung it on the floor to be with the two forks that were waiting on the spoons arrival.


result 1:  i think he thought i probably looked homeless and unkept for not a word was said about my appearance.  i should have brushed my hair.  will i ever learn?

result 2:  i am embracing the mall walker look after the pain of a flip flop day.  and who cares if you wear tennis shoes with skirts?  i have a hole in my foot people and it hurts.  i think i will go make a lapel pin now that says "i am wearing these shoes because i have a hole in my foot.  please feel sorry for me?"  i think this is a sure fire plan.  i will be accepted.  embraced (by the pediatrists, for sure).

result 3:  i called bessie back finally and she said "i need to let you go" after three seconds because she was working or something important like that.  i am never calling her again.  never talking to her even.  ever, ever.

result 4:  tomorrow we will both have a spoon.  she will drop hers at the least thirty five times.  i will probably only drop mine three times.  either way, we will both start our meal happy.

tomorrow we shall discuss the contents of my purse.  for i dropped a tylenol in that thing and after thirty minutes (okay, 45...) i found it.

i am that organized.

sometimes i think instead of blogspot, i think it should be called confessionalspot and i'm not even catholic.

thank you and good day.

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