So this morning I went to the Y and did a workout class with one of my friends from my Moms's group. After about half of the class I realized she really wasn't my friend or she wouldn't be trying to KILL ME!!!! I. cannot. move. My legs go back and forth between being jelly and being jelly and being jelly. Did I say my legs are jelly? Totally non functional. Oh, and did I mention the pain? Supposedly it will get better - after it gets worse.
Uggggghhhh. I am sooo out of shape. I felt like I was having my own private class as the instructor kept instructing me (isn't it funny how instructors tend to instruct?) from the front of the class. I, of course, was on the back row. Being totally lame. And dying. I just may go ahead and join, though, as I certainly could stand to lose a pound or five hundred.
Well, I'll join if I live.
Punkin's birthday party is two weeks from today. I've been trying to come up with invitations for the past three days and haven't done much else. Besides killing myself this morning. But I digress. I finally got the invitations printed, assembled, addressed and ready for the mail. I think they turned out alright, but not worthy of three days of my time. Here is a photo -
Those round things are the magnets holding it up on my fridge. It's funny how when I tried to use the magnets to attach it to my cabinet it wouldn't work. Damn, I'm dumb sometimes. Of course, I could blame it on sleep deprivation, but dumb would probably be more accurate.
Holy shit! Someone broke into my house and ransacked the place!!
No, not really. This is what happens when you have a two year old with lots of toys and you have:
- a blogging addiction
- spent three days working on party invitations
- no motivation to do housework for the last three days
- slept four hours per night for the last week
Those things on the top of the entertainment center are the last vestiges of our potty training rewards. He gets the whole kit and caboodle when he stays clean and dry for a week. I'm figuring that one day a future archaeologist will excavate this site and find those same items petrified exactly where they are now. The poop is just being a real bitch to get under control.
I would have taken a photo of the laundry room (should you really even still call it that when no laundry actually gets done there?), but I would have been reeeeeealy embarrassed to show that one! I know, I showed you my messy ass living room, but the laundry room is in a whole other category.
Remember a while back when I was waiting on Martha to come to my rescue?
Well, that bitch hasn't done shit, either!