I hate myself.

Wait, let me clarify that. I hate things about myself. Mostly the large things, like my thighs and my waistline.

I hate that stores don’t stock shoes in size 11, how I can’t find a decent sports bra, or that shopping for eyeglasses involves me telling the sales clerk that she needs to show me the frames for pumpkin-headed people.

I hate not being able to cross my legs under a table, having no room in airplanes, or that the seat in my car doesn’t go back far enough for my liking. Also, long-sleeved shirts that look more like 3/4 length.

And, for crying out loud, my earlobes.

Of course this is just the way I was made and I wouldn’t be me without resembling a giant – I’d certainly have a lot less fodder for this blog, that’s for sure. Just once, though, I’d like to wear heels without towering over everyone.

Sure there are benefits; like being able to reach the tall shelf without a stool and never having to worry about someone blocking your view. That’s about it. Being a big girl ain’t easy.

Palming a basketball, however? Piece of cake.

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And so it begins. It’s time for NaBloPoMo!

Half of you are, “Say what? Why is she posting gibberish while on Ambien?” and the other half may recall my past attempts at National Blog Posting Month (or NaBloPoMo, for short) in 2011 and 2012, both of which I failed. I am nothing if not a quitter.

So here I go again. Imma do this thing for once.

Just don’t hold me to it.

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Shh. Don’t tell anyone, but sometimes I like to be alone. Sure I work alone, but I “talk” on social media all day and when my kids come home from school there is rarely a moment without chatter.

Don’t get me wrong; I love people and socializing, and talking – oh, can I talk – but at the end of the day I like to climb into bed and fold the adjustable mattress into what my husband calls “the taco” and relax. It’s safe and quiet there. There’s nobody asking for help with homework or telling me they’re out of underwear. I can’t even see the dirty dishes!

I know some people frown on having a television in the bedroom, but not me. I have always watched TV in bed, ever since I was little and I’d fall asleep to the Donny and Marie show. When I got older, it was Johnny Carson and when he retired I moved on to Cheers reruns. Lately, I’ve been tuning in to old episodes of Seinfeld. It’s just me, my bed and some good comedy.

See the correlation there? At the end of the day, when I’m trying to wind down and relax, I like to laugh.

The only problem is that since the kids went back to school I’ve started climbing into bed around 10:00 so I can get up earlier. There is nothing funny on at 10:00. There are news programs, reruns of murder mysteries and reality shows that aren’t fit for watching just before you close your eyes. *shudder*

This is why I’m currently addicted to House Hunters on HGTV.

My husband thinks I watch it because I want granite counter-tops, a soaking tub, and a double vanity – and I do, but more than that I enjoy the schadenfreude of watching couples bicker over linoleum and west-facing windows. Sometimes, people don’t buy houses just because of the color of the walls. You know, painting is hard.

Though it isn’t billed as a comedy, I find humor in the expectations of first-time home buyers and the commentary of their frustrated realtors who gently tiptoe around the fact that their clients are nit-picky. Brass fixtures, overhead fans, or GASP, wood paneling? Deal breakers!

Maybe it makes me feel better about the chimney, hot water heater, and furnace we recently had to replace. Maybe it makes me think that our carpet isn’t nearly as gross as it could be. Or maybe it makes me thankful that I no longer work in mortgage lending.

Either way, thank you House Hunters for the laughter and the sweet dreams. And, may I never need to go house hunting again.

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You know how it goes. Work, cook, clean, eat, laundry. Work, cook, clean, eat, laundry. Shall I continue? No? It gets OLD, doesn’t it?

The point is, before you know it a week has passed and you haven’t posted anything on your blog. But, if history repeats itself I’ll be posting every day in November so you have that to look forward to. Though, come mid-month your feelings may lean toward the last sentence of that first paragraph.

I’m really starting to feel the funk of fall, which doesn’t help matters. Though, it’s okay because I’m combating it by eating more cookies. We are working out more, but our trainer’s favorite word is “nutrition” and I keep telling him my favorite word is “beer.” He doesn’t listen. He tells me to do more lunges and eat kale, but instead I watch House Hunters and inhale Kettle Chips.

Sure the sky is blue and the leaves are gorgeous, but I know what’s coming and my psycho psychic mind is telling me it’s going to be a nasty winter. It’s going to be cold. Yes, winter usually is cold, but I’m telling you it’s going to be exceptionally cold because I’m a walking Farmer’s Almanac, so I KNOW these things. At least we just spent $5,000 on a new furnace, so we have that going for us.

I try to fool myself by saying things like, “Mmm…this cup of tea is so soothing” or “Doesn’t the cinnamon apple cake smell delicious?” except I don’t bake. I do have a cinnamon apple cake candle, though. Basically there are attempts being made at mind tricks, but I’m trying to trick myself. The only time my mind tricks work on me is when I say, “I’m JUST going to Target to get toilet paper.”

I find myself taking increasingly long, scalding-hot showers and so do my kids, because we are trying to get the chill OUT OF OUR BONES. My husband doesn’t understand this, because while we are joyously inhaling steam all he can do is yell, “No one needs a 25 minute-long shower!” Which you probably don’t if you’re a bear like him.

In preparation for winter’s wrath I’ve been taking extra Vitamin D, which is supposed to help the immune system. My son’s new school doesn’t have any windows. NONE. There is one lonely skylight over the indoor playground, but that’s it. So, he has to take extra, extra Vitamin D because apparently parents aren’t allowed to get on the roof with a chainsaw and create more skylights; which is a dumb rule, because it’s FOR THE CHILDREN.

The solution to my lack of posting and fall-funk is probably to buy more fuzzy socks and take naps. Except I have insomnia, so I’ll need more fuzzy socks to offset the lack of sleep. Or nail polish and a new lamp. Oh, or a bedspread! Or very warm, footie pajamas. Or new boots…

Gotta go. I need to head to Target to pick up some toilet paper.

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