Is it Monday?

I really thought it was Tuesday when I woke up this morning. 

This is usually my one day home during the week to get things done around the house. Laundry being the number one thing on my list. 

My calendar alerted me that my boy has a dental cleaning at 3:30. Gah. That means I gotta shower, get dressed, and go people. So be it. Only happens once every six months. 

I was on my third cup of coffee and did a quick pit stop in my half bath. 

It started backing up. 

The heck????

I start plunging and the stupid plunger broke. (Weight training at the gym paying off, eh?)

Ran to get the one from my bathroom. Hollered at Paige to go upstairs and grab one from there. 

No luck. 

Seriously getting mad now. 

Paige took a shift plunging while I googled can you put drano in a toilet. 

That would be a no. 

Dangit. 

Google did say put dish detergent and a pot of hot (not boiling) water in and that would break up a clog. 

Well, the water level went down and more plunging made for lots of bubbles. Lots. Of. Bubbles. 

After a good thirty minutes, I admitted defeat and called a plumber. 

Who can come between 3 & 5. My son’s appointment is at 3:30. 

Called The Man to see if he can come home early. He will, but not until 3. 

What if they come early? I have to leave at 2:10. 

Sigh. 

Call dentist and tell the complete truth. I’m sure the gal really didn’t want to know my toilet struggles. She did waive the cancellation fee because....crap happens. 

Call the school because my son’s phone is messed up (thanks Apple update) to tell him to come home. 

Ya’ll. It’s 10 am here and I am already TIRED. This is ridiculous. Now I’m doing extra cleaning because some random dude is coming in my house. 

Now we get to find out if a certain four year old flushed a toy or it’s a legit clog. 

Everyone’s bet is on the toy. 

Slightly thankful I can still wash clothes and there are other toilets in my home still working. 

I can hear our money going down the drain......

Happiness in my mouth

Know what this is? This is a carnita (pork) burrito with cheese and extra grilled onions. This junk makes my mouth extremely happy. 

Who says you can’t eat good after surgery. I enjoyed maybe a little less than half, and boxed it up for my husband to take to work tomorrow. Which means it’s a good snack for him. The tortilla is on the "eh, maybe not a good idea" list. I get that. But, because I had that little bit of tortilla goodness, I’ll have a protein shake for supper. Balance. 

Time to take it up a notch. Menopause, hormones, life, and falling off the wagon has equaled some regain. Not a bunch, but enough to snap my head back and give me some whiplash. Watch out gym, here I come tomorrow!

Good thing I got some new kicks this weekend. 

Beautiful Experience

I just had a most incredible experience. I went earlier to a pharmacy to pick up my prescription. This is not my usual pharmacy. I have to have a compound made just for me. Apparently, in order for a pharmacy to label themselves as a compound pharmacy...the pharmacist has extra schooling and I guess it’s a special deal. 

The pharmacy is a little ways away in not the greatest part of town. We’re talking around 30 minutes depending on traffic. Luckily, I found out they would make it and bring it to their branch that is literally five minutes away from my home. I could deal with that. 

This morning my crazy self pushed it hard at the gym. I literally walked on the treadmill for an hour to the tune of over 4 miles. THEN, I did some weight training. My poor apple watch probably should have just exploded. 

I was tired when I pulled at the pharmacy’s drive-through window. The sweet gal there looked and looked. Nothing. Cue deep sigh from me. I just did not want to come back out once I got home. 

She said give me your address and I’ll have it delivered as soon as it gets here. 

I’m sorry...what did you say?

I wrote my address down and drove away in shock. 

Pharmacies deliver? Is this a dream?

I came home and told my daughter. She had the same reaction I did. I said...what do I do? Do I tip? Is that proper? I don’t have cash to tip!

Son of a gun if dude didn’t drive up 15 minutes ago with my script. He was incredibly nice and I was raining "Lord, bless you"’s all over his head. 

It was a beautiful experience I will treasure. 

I feel bad I didn’t tip him. 

Stupid Wagon

I hate falling off of the recovery wagon. Hate. Hate. Hate it. Every time I think I’m solidly buckled in ....here comes a bump in the road. Seat belt flies open and here I go , falling on the side of the road on my head. 

I then get up, dust myself off, and debate getting on that blasted rolling cart again. Being honest here, sometimes I just want to just give up. Let that cart head on down the road without me. I get tired. Bone deep tired of always having to be hyper aware. Constantly counting protein. Wondering if I got enough good fluids for the day. Fighting the soul deep cravings for carbs is the ultimate fight for me. And there are times I lose that fight. I will lose a small battle and other times, I lose so brilliantly and epically that I amaze myself. 

Yep. That’s my mental conversation I have with myself when I’m standing beside the road wondering if this is all worth it. 

Then I sigh really big, square my shoulders, and take off after that damn wagon. 

It’s worth it. 

I am worth it. 

The battle may be long and tiresome. Attacks from the rear (hi there menopause!) can throw you off course. In the end, when all is said and done, I want to be able to say I never gave up trying. 

Have I mentioned how sore I am today from kicking it up a notch at the gym yesterday? Mary, Joseph, and the baby lambs!! I’m walking like I’m 100 years old, but guess what?

I’m sittin’ tall in the wagon.