Dear Diary

This entry was written 2.11.2021

I am officially breaking up with today -- we are not in sync, zero communication, and if I could have stayed in bed (except to call my MIL to wish her a very happy birthday), this day needs to come to an end.

I'll preface this break up with surrounding circumstances -- it is not totally out of the blue. In saying that, I need to do a small Covid rant regarding the endless requirement of feeding my family in a healthy way. Oy -- so much cooking! Give me a break. AG bought us new pots and pans --he tried to pass off as a Christmas present, which I immediately responded as appropriately indignant -- I get it -- I am a stay at home person who does not like domestic stuff at all -- don't rub it into my face.

I do feel like I've put a decent amount of effort this way. I've explored new recipes, whatnot -- but at the end of the night -- healthy cooking leads to a pile of clean up which just sucks.

Anyhow -- my day started with my meal last night. A resurrected chicken chili that initially turned out a bit soupy, which is a NO GO in the chili world. I googled remedies and added more beans, that I macerated, a cornstarch water combo, straining, reserved broth?, etc. You get the idea. AG questioned me after the first round of this chili as to whether it was really chicken. Yes -- GROUND chicken. I learned 2 things from my hellacious 20 day elimination diet -- turkey and pork were offensive to my particular biosphere. Thus the ground chicken. On resurrection day I added the saved broth (which I thought was really smart) added in some other chicken, carrots -- just spiffed it up a bit. That was my diet yesterday -- eating up the left over chili. Then, doing something I rarely do these days, I ate 8 of the mini butterfinger candy bars (I've been trying to cut out too much sugar), but couldn't sleep, felt sorry for myself, stumbled upon the bag. It actually makes me sick to think of it again.

Today was a rarity -- I actually had something I needed to leave the house for. I hadn't really slept the night before and when my dearest friend/beloved business partner gave me a wake up call. she was surprised to find I was already up. Then I tried to put socks on and couldn't reach over to put them on my feet -- it was a struggle morning and my body was so stiff that it wasn't helping me out too much. That is when the chili/8 chocolate bars kicked in and I realized I was in trouble. Not to be gross -- but I was not going to be leaving the house for awhile, if you get my drift. Oy. What to do, what to do. I texted my DF/BBP and said I was running behind -- would be a little late. We text our client -- its all fine. But I still had the issue of not feeling quite 100% about leaving. I called DF/BBP and we laughed about the situation. She suggested I just bring along the potpourri bathroom stuff but I was not at all going that route. I had an escape messaging signal that I would give her -- kind of a wink and a tug like Mary Popkins but this was Mary Poopkins. We decided I should stop somewhere on the way just to be safe. I did so and thought that the situation was behind me.

After our appointment, both of us were a little bored and I told her I was stopping into TJ Maxx to get cheap artwork for their canvases. I thought it would be fun to pick out horrific outfits and make each other try them on but she was a NO GO. We looked at everything else in the place and then finally made our way to the check out line. While waiting there, we laughed about the morning and I mentioned that when I had stopped, I tried to find the bathroom spray, which is usually in your face everywhere at all checkouts from hardware stores and on, but there was none to be found. Just then we noticed a collection of little sprays -- how random. DF/BBP wanted to know what they smelled like and without coordinating this move with my physical presence next to her -- she shot out a spray of something that went right into my eyes. Oh my god -- the poo spray stings and weirdly it is super sticky and by the time I got home my eyelashes were all stuck together and I smelled like a cover up poo spray-- ugh a weird distinctive odor that I couldn't get out of my nasal passages. I was dying. I was supposed to bring our old car in -- unbelievably we still have a car with an antenna, which I forgot about while getting it washed and now had an appointment to have it replaced -- and would be late. I called to let the dealership know -- the woman who works there is one of my favorite people (she was with me when 10 years ago we had to bring the car in, have all the carpet removed because of spilled chocolate milk that -- this part is super gross -- led to maggots)-- I wish I was making this up. The dealership had the car for 2 weeks, stripped to the steel airing out -- we essentially became friends after this, so I gave her the low down of my situation.

I told DF/BBP that we could actually do an infomercial regarding poo spray in lieu of Mace for an attempting attacker -- after you sting his/her eyes out, it glues them shut and then you can find her/him by the god-awful smell of the spray.

The following is my daily check in (recommended by a therapist) of assessing my pain.