Nuggets of Gold!

UGLY SHIRT 1, ME 0

Did you ever have an article of clothing that you came to hate, but you kept it in your closet as punishment ... for yourself? I suspect I have several of these. But in particular I have this shirt that I looooooved in the store, and since it was on sale I bought it, and then I got it home and realized that, even though I loved the print of the fabric, the cut was just hideously unflattering. Like, makes me look preggers unflattering. But goddammit, I bought this shirt, I spent good money on it, so instead of rolling my eyes and getting rid of it, I not only keep it ... but I'M WEARING IT.

And I'm going to wear it all damn day and know I look yucky (too bad, too, as I'm having a good hair day), but by god, maybe I'll think twice next time before buying a shirt (a) without trying it on and (b) without remembering that empire waists always, ALWAYS, make me look pregnant.

I suspect it might be insane to punish myself like this, but here I am, in my ugly shirt that I'm also now noticing is rather uncomfortable to boot. Am I the only one who does this?

LOVE AND HATE

OK, yeah. That last post was way too depressing to leave up there that long. Moving on ...

Tonight, downtown, there was the most wonderful smell of honeysuckle in the air. A storm was rolling in (well, north of us, I think we're just getting the breeze), and it brought the best wind ever. I wanted to stand outside and breathe it in for an hour. And I would have, too, on my porch, if it wasn't so crapped up with pollen as to make it uninhabitable, for the moment. But pollen, at least, makes honeysuckle grow ... not downtown, but somewhere. So I can forgive it. Honeysuckle is my favorite smell.

While I'm being an earth-mama here, I might as well share that I'm starting yoga tomorrow. Assuming I get my ass to the gym. Regrettably, the Y doesn't make you sign up for classes; you just show up. Which means no commitment. Which means no discipline on my part. Damn. But I really want to give it a try, so hopefully I'll make it. This time, and maybe even another.

End of this peace-y shit. I am now contemplating grabbing a baseball bat and clobbering the driver of the street cleaning truck who has decided this week to park his deafeningly loud truck outside my living room window each night at 12:30 a.m. or later and make a shit-ton of noise while he does ... whatever he's doing. Emptying his truck into the street sewer, I guess. Or possibly getting water from the fire hydrant. Whatever it is, it's noisy, it takes a long time, and it fills my heart with hate.