Pop Quiz, Hotshot:
It’s Friday night. Your husband is out of town. He (and your mother-in-law!) are due home early Saturday morning. You are spending the evening:
a.) Cleaning your filthy house and grocery shopping so that your pantry and refrigerator are representative of two functional adults, not one alcoholic latchkey child
b.) Dicking around on Facebook and blogging
c.) Watching old TV intros on YouTube while singing along to the theme songs, glass of cabernet in hand
If you answered “a” you sorely underestimate my capacity for procrastination and love for the Duke brothers. If you answered “b” and “c” congratulations! Now get over here and hang out with me. Or clean my house. I can pay you in wine and the lyrics to the theme from “One Day at a Time.”
After a few months of feeling fairly “blah” about life, I have decided to take matters into my own hands and get my shit together. Here are a few of the tool I have gathered in my quest to be more healthy, more organized, and less stressed:
- After hearing good things from various sources (hi Cece!) I ordered a delightful Erin Condren Life Planner. I am obsessed with this thing (I went for the Fleur Feliz Retro print with my first name across the cover). It’s like a grown-up Trapper Keeper! It comes with stickers and some gift tags! The thrill I get when I cross something off of my to do list should be illegal.
- This oddly-named Aladdin Water Bottle (does a genie come out if I rub it?) has made it easier – and dare I say – more fun to drink water. Apparently the combo of cute+functional+doesn’t need to be refilled constantly = I drink enough to stay hydrated. I’m not as sluggish and cranky and the heat is miraculously easier to handle. The fact that it is virtually spill-proof doesn’t hurt since I am spazz who should be forced to drink everything out of a sippy cup.
- After seeing a recent picture of myself and asking, “Who is that chunky girl OHFUCKTHAT’SME?” I decided I need to whip this flabby ass into shape and ordered a trio of Jillian Michaels DVDs. I should be shredded AND ripped in 30 days, as well as sporting a six-pack in six weeks. Now all I need to do is actually, uh, DO THE EXERCISES. Can someone please call and threaten me with bodily harm so I get off my couch? Thanks.
- Dialing back the social networking and going “invisible” on Gchat have probably added years to my life. Or at least staved off the near-daily rage strokes I was getting. Yes, I know I can unfriend and hide people but there’s something really liberating about just choosing to minimize my exposure altogether. Sure, I still hop on Facebook to see pictures of my friends and read up on what’s new with far-flung friends, but the time I would spend poring over the feed was ridiculous and could be spent being present for the people in my actual, immediate vicinity. Twitter alternately annoys and amuses me but when the scales started to tip toward “annoyance” more than “amusement” I knew it was time to back off. And while I love the fun and convenience that IM offers, it was getting exhausting to be constantly, readily available to anyone and everyone. Sometimes a girl just wants quiet, you know? I haven’t sworn off any of these things, but setting aside time for myself, my family, and other interests has probably actually strengthened my relationships, oddly enough.
Next up on my list: a good system for menu planning. We’re pretty good about keeping a running list of things we need so shopping isn’t totally chaotic. It’s just that I a.) Hate grocery shopping with a passion and b.) Am such a freakshow about cooking new things that I tend to stick to a very narrow repertoire even if I have all the tools to make something fabulous. And then there’s the matter of remembering to pull things out of the freezer to defrost. Care to guess how often I remember to do this? Hint: not often enough that when I DO remember Ed isn’t completely shocked. I am the worst.
What are we all doing to get our collective shit together? Anyone want to share some tips, tools, or ideas? Anyone up for standing over me drill seargeant-style so I am motivated to work out to one of the DVDs?
And yes, I have been woefully neglectful of this blog. Does anyone read this thing anymore?
Today’s rant brought to you by my commie pinko feminism.*
Issue the First: My job requires me to interact with the public a great deal, and lately I have encountered a sad phenomenon: grown-ass women who speak in baby voices. To other grown-ass people. To these women I say STOP THIS SHIT RIGHT NOW. You sound insane and incompetent. I am not moved to help you because you conjure up images of baby ducks. I cannot take you seriously, and am frequently distracted by what you are saying because of the way you say it. You’re an adult speaking to another adult: act the part.
Issue 2: Electric Boogaloo: Why are people – in 2011 – still so shocked that a woman can be an attorney? And not simply an attorney but an owner/partner in a thriving law firm? Why do I have to frequently explain that one of our partners is not the other partner’s secretary/assistant/associate/bitch? I am hoping it’s because our clientele tends to be older and more traditionally-minded (read: ignorant sexist assholes), and not a sad commentary on our society’s scary fall into 1950’s-style thinking. Sometimes I like to blame the Kardashians. Why? Why NOT!
Issue #3: OK, not so much an issue as a fist pump for Tina Fey’s hilarious book Bossypants. I read it in one sitting (something Ed found super-impressive, so I didn’t tell him that it had pictures because every now and then it’s nice to be The Smart One in the room) and startled the dog with my bursts of laughter. It’s perfect airplane material (can be read in 6 hours, funny enough to distract you from the fact that you are hurtling through the sky in a tin fucking can), and a few friends have recommended the audio version for commutes (bonus: Tina Fey herself recorded it). I suppose you could download it on your Kindle or Nook, but I am a Luddite who still goes to bookstores and reads books with paper like it’s 2009.
Anyone else out there have something to rage about? Go for it in the comments!
*Not really, but I imagine this is how my father-in-law would characterize me. And while we’re at it, why aren’t I cooking something and birthing some grandsons? It’s not like I do anything of value or importance! (See, I told you I have issues.)