2:12 p.m. - 2006-07-03
Complaints
1. I'm so tired of peeing. If adult diapers were socially acceptable, I'd be in them. It's not even a question of volume: each time I think I have to go so urgently, as if I might wet myself if I can't make it to a toilet in time, it turns out to be a tiny trickle. And I always ask my bladder: THAT is what the emergency was for? But oh man, I am in the freakin' restroom, like, 20 times a day. I should move my desk in there. And get my mail delivered there.
2. I'm rotund. It's getting more and more difficult to hoist myself in and out of my car every day. I can't do it without audible grunts and much shortness of breath. It's a sexy look.
3. Speaking of the big belly, I'm inching dangerously close to the point where I have no idea what's going on below my belly button -- and yeah, I'm mostly referring to, um, landscaping. Looks like I'll have to put my ol' pal Virginie, waxer extraordinaire, on 24- hour standby.
4. Ohhhhhh, would I love a gin and tonic right about now. I had a virgin pina colada last night, which was delicious in a kool-aid kind of way, but it's just not the same without that rum hit. I know, I know -- alcohol once in a while isn't going to hurt either one of us, but I just can't bring myself to do it.
5. I'm sick of work. More accurately, I'm sick of workING. Today I told someone that my dream job would be to sit on the sofa and eat ice cream and watch Oprah. And you know what? That really IS my dream job. Why can't I find a job like that?
