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When sitting in the lunch room at work, I often silently judge other peoples bad food choices.
I have an unhealthy fear of driving next to semis. Being in the middle lane, with one on either side of me, aka the dreaded "semi sandwich" is seriously one of my biggest fears. I realize how crazy this makes me sound.
The only reason I donated to the United Way through work this year.....was for the 2 extra PTO days. And the Visa gift card.
We went to the pumpkin patch this year and didn't buy any pumpkins because I was too cheap to pay their ridiculous prices. So at the last minute I was scrambling around to get some which are now still sitting on my porch. Uncarved. Mom fail.
A few weeks ago while leaving Target, I noticed one of the carts in the cart corral had a forgotten 12 pack of Dr. Pepper on the bottom rack. It was late. Dark. And raining. I was the only one in the parking lot. So I took it. I don't even drink pop, but I felt like I hit the finders keepers lottery.
My inlaws are coming in town for the weekend. As of this morning my house is a wreck. There's still crap in the guest room. And I haven't washed a sheet or a towel in preparation for their visit. Daughter in law fail.
The other night I texted my husband a picture of Jamie. He was sitting on the other side of the room. I was too
I said I wasn't going to buy any Girl Scout cookies this year since we didn't need the extra cookies in the house. In a weak moment I bought 3 boxes.
The next day someone at work was selling them and I bought 3 more.
The last trick or treaters hadn't even left my doorstep and people were already talking about Red cups and Christmas music. This literally makes my blood boil. I love me some Christmas, but come on. Respect the turkey people!!
Now that the weather is getting cooler I've had to bust out my son's beloved "sacky" aka his sleepsack. You know. The things babies wear. Yeah, we're one growth spurt away from needing the one with foot holes. The same one I saw last year and made fun of.
Confessions. It's good for the soul.
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