I got boring.
So boring, that I'm boring even myself, and that's really hard to do for a narcissict blogger like myself.
I recently read through most of my archive (not at work on a slow afternoon, in case you were wondering, or are my boss), and can tell you exactly when it happened. Oh, who am I kidding? Even you, my faithful reading friends, can tell me when it happened.
May 2nd, 2011. The day I got boring.
The day I went back to work, and became a banker from nine to five (uh, seven-thirty to five-thirty, if we want to count the commute, which we do, because am I home and eating, or cleaning, or talking to my kids during it? I am not).
The day dinner time (formerly "let's take pictures of food" time) became a blur of "getting in the door, what are we having, oh no - the meal I planned is missing components or isn't thawed, did that kid just poop her pants?, I haven't used the bathroom all day myself" time.
The day the precious few hours after the kids' bedtime became "let me just sit down on the couch for a second before I plan tomorrow's supper or pick up the toys or vacuum the floor or do some laundry or pack tomorrow's lunch zzzzzzzzz.........." until I wake up, stagger to the bathroom and then up to bed.
Oh, yeah.
That day.
But you know I have a plan, right? To get back to the butter-loving, food-making, interesting (and sometimes funny) cheapskate that is currently sleeping inside my apparently awake body, that is.
And it is...
Stay home after baby number three - that's Bean, for those in the know.
Wop-wanhh. Real original. In fact, I think I might have read about that radical plan somewhere in here except it was baby number two.
You can see how well that worked out.
Pretty soon, I'll sit down with my beloved - and very much neglected, lately - budget spreadsheet and Mint.com
And last night, just to combat the boredom, I actually swept my kitchen floor before I fell asleep on the couch. Earth-shattering, I know. Try to find somewhere to sit down.
We'll see.
