I was catching up on my design blogs, the reading of which clearly counts as "work" since I am also a design blogger, when I learned from Jenny over at MFAMB that Mercury is in retrograde. Which basically means that shit is fucked.
I am a so-so, sort-of, kind-of, when-I-feel-like-it believer in astrology and the zodiac and all that business. I mean, I love my sign enough to get it tattooed on my arm. And the awesome tumblr Zodiac Chic has the following wisdom:
which is so clearly on the money in every way that it would make an astrologist out of your mom. Although for all I know your mom is totally gullible and believes everything you tell her anyway, like that you were holding those cigarettes for a friend, or you were going to call but there was no pay phone, or other lines of crazy bullshit we all used as teenagers, and which my kids better never ever use on me.
I seem to have gotten a bit off track here, but I guess the point is I totally buy all that astrology zodiac crap, and if you disagree, well:
which basically means "fuck off" as far as I can tell.
Anyway, there is no denying that shit has been fucked, at least in my neck of the woods. And if I can blame that on a planet being "in retrograde," which is apparently some sort of optical illusion but whatever, then I am going to do just that. Cause otherwise I'd have to take some responsibility myself and that is unappealing to me, although seems to make perfect sense to Ted. Thank God he's in Boston for work and not around to nag me about shit every single second.
The good news is that Mercury moves (goes? rotates? spins?) out of retrograde on August 8th. Which is tomorrow. So I have high hopes that this means I will be getting my act together. You know, actually working with my clients. Writing that thank-you note. Cleaning the house (and I mean this literally. Ted decided we were too poor to have a housekeeper, especially one that spoke zero English and didn't know how to to clean a house, like, at all). Updating the Christmas card list. Registering Andrew for kindergarten.
But I am going to start small. With the dining room. And to prove my good intentions, I am going to now show you what my dining room looks like now:
As you can see, I have my work cut out for me. Hopefully my love of a good "Before and After" will motivate me, because clearly looking at this sad mess everyday hasn't done the job. Oh, but I forgot! Mercury is coming out of retrograde! Oh yeah, this dining room'll be shipshape before Ted gets back from Boston. On Friday.
XOXOXO
ABC
I am a so-so, sort-of, kind-of, when-I-feel-like-it believer in astrology and the zodiac and all that business. I mean, I love my sign enough to get it tattooed on my arm. And the awesome tumblr Zodiac Chic has the following wisdom:
which is so clearly on the money in every way that it would make an astrologist out of your mom. Although for all I know your mom is totally gullible and believes everything you tell her anyway, like that you were holding those cigarettes for a friend, or you were going to call but there was no pay phone, or other lines of crazy bullshit we all used as teenagers, and which my kids better never ever use on me.
I seem to have gotten a bit off track here, but I guess the point is I totally buy all that astrology zodiac crap, and if you disagree, well:
which basically means "fuck off" as far as I can tell.
Anyway, there is no denying that shit has been fucked, at least in my neck of the woods. And if I can blame that on a planet being "in retrograde," which is apparently some sort of optical illusion but whatever, then I am going to do just that. Cause otherwise I'd have to take some responsibility myself and that is unappealing to me, although seems to make perfect sense to Ted. Thank God he's in Boston for work and not around to nag me about shit every single second.
The good news is that Mercury moves (goes? rotates? spins?) out of retrograde on August 8th. Which is tomorrow. So I have high hopes that this means I will be getting my act together. You know, actually working with my clients. Writing that thank-you note. Cleaning the house (and I mean this literally. Ted decided we were too poor to have a housekeeper, especially one that spoke zero English and didn't know how to to clean a house, like, at all). Updating the Christmas card list. Registering Andrew for kindergarten.
But I am going to start small. With the dining room. And to prove my good intentions, I am going to now show you what my dining room looks like now:
 |
| I Mean, What the Fuck? |
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| It's Just Sad, Really. Very, Very Sad. |
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| At Least I Bought Boxes? |
XOXOXO
ABC