It’s Monday. Hurrah!
How British. I bet the British are so proper they don’t even have trash.
10. Saying Goodbye.
I’m not talking the “see you laters” to the children every morning in drop off. I mean the moving-away goodbyes, leaving a bunch-of-coworkers-you-really-love goodbyes, parting with a loved one you won’t see in a while. I just disappear rather than confront the issue of separation head-on. Well, I used to. Trying to get better about “manning-up” on this.
9. Housecleaning or should I say — Organizing my House.
Is there such thing as a house cleaning learning disability? I get so distracted, so off track. I start 10 tasks and never get one finished. If my husband reads this, he now looks like one of those bobble-head dogs in the back of some elderly woman’s car.
8. Disciplining my children.
I hate it. Which usually means, I wait till my head is spinning like Linda Blair before I do something. Like number 9, I’m trying desperately to set boundaries of acceptable behavior and follow through with consequences if need be.
7. Making love.
Or is it making war? Or is it talking trashy while making love during a war film?
Get back to you on this one.
6. Matching socks.
For the love of all that’s holy, could I find a matching pair of socks that hasn’t just come out of a bag? Socks live (or maybe proper term is exist) to TORMENT me.
5. Being disciplined around a basket of chips and great salsa.
Been working on this one for the last 2o years.
4. Upper body work.
I am the 2012 female counterpart to the weakling who used to get sand kicked in his face. I cringe when my lovely trainer starts any bicep work. My biceps are all SHOW. And that hurts. It really hurts.
3. Reading aloud.
Panicked in first grade. Panicked in college. Panicked in writing critique group a few weeks ago. Can’t do it.
2. Walk across the pool deck in a bathing suit.
Hate it. Problem with most pools is there are no surrounding walls.
For if there were walls, I could shuffle sideways as a modest fiddler crab with my cellulite-infested backside glued to the cement brick. As it is, I usually slump toward some lounge as quickly as possible.
1. Public Speaking.
My arms start waving in spastic motions. I look like a frantic fly that’s been entangled in some orb weaver’s web. Then brain usually goes blank. Which is always helpful went standing in front of a few hundred blank faces. Speaking in public — can’t do it. Maybe that’s why I write?