If You Blink You'll Miss The Perfect Tranquility Of This Day

That's how my Sundays typically feel. They are never long enough it seems. Sunday is generally "my day" out of the weekend; the day in which I do nothing but that which I want to do. My average Sunday consists of getting up with Collin; making us breakfast; going to the store to get the Sunday paper (and whatever else we might need for the next couple days); reading the ads, and cutting coupons (I actually rarely read the paper itself too much depressing crap); and then whatever else I want to do for the rest of the day....

This past week has been great, even at work. The weather has been perfect the past few days. I love these sumptuous samples of Spring. They make me long for that perfect time of year when it's sunny, seventy three with a slight breeze, and impossible to resist being outside.

You'll have to bear with me, my thoughts are a little scattered this evening. That's the problem with me only getting on here once a week. So many things to share, or that I wanted to share, and they are all battling for the lead position.

Sometimes I wonder why people do some of the things they do (don't we all?). I know that little nugget is rather vague, but as much as I am sure you'd all love for me to get into whatever caused me to say that, in my infinite wisdom I have learned some things are better left unsaid. Otherwise those things tend to get back to the last person you'd want them to get back to. All I wonder is how they go about doing what they do without feeling like some horribly, filthy, wretched soul. Then again I work in collections...

Now it's time for some random thoughts from my phone that have come about in the last week:

When I am sick, I like sleeping on my back because I think there is less likelihood that the vomit will go up my nose.

(In response to Collin's wretched fake snore) If you snored like that I would do everything in my power to make you stop... Including cutting off your nose.

Collin and I agree that we could achieve the slobberiest kiss on the planet if we both smeared Orajel all over mouths and tongues.

There is something truly odd about listening to your seventy three year old boss talk about his life adventures and his encounters with hookers along the way (NOT sexual encounters!).

Screw sexting, this is slepxting, where you violate people by shooting video of them sleeping with a really bright light and then sending it to all of your friends...

Now to go finish making dinner... I smell meatloaf!

I am making meatloaf by the way.... Not having an olfactory hallucination.