I’m chilly, have the chills, and know that, above all else, I need to take care of myself.
My goal for this evening is to do what makes me happy.
- hang out with my gals
- have a hot bath with a magazine, bubbles and maybe a mug of mulled wine (I refuse to give it up, even though Christmas is over)
- snuggle up in bed with a multitude of pillows, an electric blanket and a crossword puzzle
- work on my puberty memoir and standup comedy routine (really one-in-the-same) that are bound to make me famous when I actually get up the nerve to publicly humiliate myself
- floss, even though it does not make me particularly happy. At least it’s quick. My cousin, Jolene, has perfect teeth, and she’s been flossing religiously since before we started having sleepovers in third grade. I think of her every single time (which isn’t often enough) that I floss.
I’m not going to:
- suggest my children practice piano because I don’t seem to have any tiger mother blood in me and I just want them to keep pretending they are tigers and chasing each other around on all fours . (Plus, when they play I am viscerally reminded of my half hour weekly torture sessions at Mrs. Reimer’s house where I had to endure the shame of having no talent on top of having never practiced.)
- eat the remaining Christmas cookies in the freezer
- eat a corn Blizzard from Dairy Queen in Thailand (ever)