It is a beautiful, crisp fall day (my favorite kind!).
It's cool enough that I wore my new cashmere coat (and I may never take it off again).
I am currently wearing pants a size smaller than I wore when I was 14.
I have found a facial cleanser and toner (I love you, Bliss!) that makes my face all soft and dewy and even-textured (were it not for my naturally pasty skintone, I would forego the foundation altogether).
Kidlet woke up without a fight, got washed up and dressed without a fight, let me do her hair (pigtails!) without a fight, put her coat and shoes on without a fight, and kissed me bye when I dropped her off at school without a fight.
I do not have to go to Omaha next month.
Barack Obama will be the President-elect in 17 days.
I found a Wii console and Wii Fit in stock and it will be on my back doorstep by Thursday (that last 25 pounds I have to lose will be HISTORY by Christmas!).
I should be happy.
I am not.
I am, in fact, one eyeblink away from becoming Very Unprofessional.
The Menopause Twins have hijacked the thermostat, and I am freezing (literally shivering, with my cashmere coat on, looking utterly foolish, typing with frozen fingers).
My boy-crush is in the office today, visiting from his home base in Bermuda. He said hello (remembered my name!) and in response, I turned crimson and spilled my coffee (am so cool...).
I want to kill my staff. All 2 of them (the third is in China... she hasn't managed to piss me off from halfway around the world yet). Their collective inability to write a coherent sentence, follow simple instructions and/or form an independent thought is completely baffling. I am also amazed by their complete and total lack of problem-solving skills. How did these women get to be nurses!? How did they not KILL every last patient they were responsible for!?
LT is being, excuse my French, a complete and utter asshole. As evidenced by the following: I asked her, approximately 50 times, if she likes my new hair color. Her response, all 50 times, "It's okay". When asked the same question by someone else, in front of our entire collective family, her response: "I hate it. I wish she had left it alone." When asked, the same night, by a different person, what she thinks of my tremendous weight loss and how different I look, her response: "I guess she's happy about it." I can boil her entire attitude down thusly: LT is unhappy that I weigh less than her, that my clothing size is smaller than hers, and that she is the only compulsive over-eater in the house. She is jealous of what I have accomplished in the last 10 months (weight loss aside- great job, going back to school, etc...), and feels inadequate by comparison. She can go fuck herself.
Boss Lady took a personal day today. The resultant slacking off (by myself as well) will only mean much yelling to occur tomorrow when she comes back.
I'm tired this morning. I stayed up too late watching Dexter and True Blood. Have officially replaced food addiction with TV addiction.
I'm going to get some more coffee. Will try not to spill it this time.