I have spent a glamorous evening vacuuming, cleaning the fridge and will now embark upon the mess that is the bathroom. There are boxes everywhere. I'm desperately cleaning so that when NN and K come up this weekend (yay), I don't let their offspring choke on a hairball that I've left to rot on the floor. Seriously, I could construct a whole army of cats with all the hair around here. Sigh.
Does this constitute writing? Or whining? Or both? Maybe? A little? Whatever.
On more whining: I am still chubina despite the Couch to 5K program AND 26 miles on my bike this weekend. I drowned my sorrows last night in this lovely concoction mixed up of foods in the house that I don't want to move with me: one pound pasta, lots of salt, lots of pepper, glob of olive oil, grated cheese. Hawht!
I am TIRED.
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