So it's Good Friday. My eating spree if over, thank God, and I'm ready to begin the ascent to normalcy once more. Why can't I ever remember how awful I feel when I decide to eat a scone, an apple fritter, and an oatmeal cookie, all within an hour- not to mention a big cup of coffee to wash it all down.
I think I'll make up some post it notes with little gentle reminders, saying things like "HORRIBLY, SMELLY & OFFENSIVE GAS", "THE BLOATING WILL MAKE YOU LOOK TWO MONTHS PREGNANT", "YOU'LL FEEL LIKE CRAP" and "DON'T DO IT!!!" Then, when I'm in the mood to 'graze', I'll whip out the post its, and place them in strategic locations: the cupboard door, the freezer door, or maybe I'll just hold them in my hands- in place of the snacks. That's it, I'll hold onto little snips of neon paper telling me how awful I'll feel if I replace the paper with snacks. Yeah, that'll work.
Any way, enough rambling...
It's quiet here at work today. We are closed for lunch because of Good Friday. One might think "horray for the chefs, they get a shift off," but no such luck. They're down in the kitchen now. Scrubbing, until everything shines like the top of the Chrysler building.
This morning I woke up around 8am. Got out of bed, took about six paces, then slumped onto another horizontal surface- the couch in my living room. Then, for about two hours I stared at my furniture. I even got mad at it. I have this thing, where I can only go about 2.5 weeks before I feel a need to rearrange the furniture.
Well, the need to rearrange happen to hit around 11pm last night. Ever so quietly, I put little gym socks under the feet of all my furniture, and did ice capades all over my living room floor. The last time I moved all the furniture around, my landlord appeared at my apartment door. His hair was disheveled and his face was all wrinkled and awry. "I was trying to take a nap," he said. "Next time, just put something under the furniture so it doesn't scratch the wood." Hence, the little gym socks.
Unfortunately, I didn't make much progress. My place looks like it's been ransacked. Stacks of books everywhere and the carpet, folded in four, sits like a giant hill in the middle of my living room. I'm too discouraged to know where to begin replacing things. And, the sad thing is, I think the furniture arrangement was actually best before I moved a thing. Oh well. at least I was able to burn off about 23 calories of the fritter in the dance of it all.
Sunday is Easter and I'm looking forward to the sunrise service that I'll be attending along the Schuylkill. A brunch will follow. Lets just hope I can once again live and practice some self control. Oh dear Father, not another cookie.