Hydrangeas ARE Pretty, And You’re Not Looking Too Bad Yourself
Hey, Internet! I got tagged to do one of these list-y things! By an actual person who actually reads my actual blog (and I don’t even actually know her in actual life). Her blog? Hydrangeas are Pretty. And really, I can’t argue with that.
So thanks, pretty-pretty Hydrangea lady. I feel like tagging me is the internet equivalent of inviting me to sit at your lunch table in the cafeteria, and having been the new kid in school on more than one [awful, horrendous, scarring] occasion, I know what a kind gesture that can be.
Psst! Don’t trust that chick in the red shirt. She will totally tell everyone in gym class that you were the last girl in the 7th grade to get her period. GOD!
OK, so, here we go, in the copy-and-paste manner of things:
Make a list of 5 things that you have to get done this week (NON-Work related, no matter how small)
- Finish the shadowbox-jewelry shelf thing that I saw in a magazine, got inspired to make, and bought all the supplies for TWO MONTHS AGO. Try to ignore the fact that the above-mentioned magazine has actually stopped being published, that is how long I have dragged my feet on this project. Sigh.
- Get some preliminary ideas for the baby shower I will be hosting in May, which sounds so exciting right now, but will probably end in tears of rage, blown paychecks, and stress-related diarrhea.
- Finish reading The Well and the Mine; convince HoST that we need to name future child “Gin,” because that is possibly one of the most bad-assiest Southern names ever.
- Iron clothes, which I have been putting off for WEEKS. The completion of this one pathetic little task will expand my wardrobe tenfold.
- Try not to beat myself up when I fall asleep on the couch tonight (and every remaining night of the week) at 9:30, leaving my shelf unfinished, my shower unplanned, my book unread, and my clothes un-ironed. Those smug bears get to hibernate; why should I be denied?
And I tag:
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So…I guess these people just figure out through the magic of the internet that I’ve tagged them? Do I email them? Send them a card? Wake them gently in the night?
As you can see, tagging me for these things turns me into an 92-year-old woman trying to log into her AOL account.
Entry filed under: Gobble-gobble.