Days and days and possibly a couple of weeks have gone by and I’ve wanted to start about 10 different posts. Can I remember them when I get to the computer? Heck no. Apparently Alzheimer’s starts in your early thirties when you have two kids, are managing two houses, and are juggling more cars than drivers in your family.
But! There is a light at the end of the tunnel. And I actually am starting to doubt that it’s an oncoming train. My parents’ house is on the market as of today. We’ve sold one extra car, and traded in the other extra one for one that actually makes sense for our family (and that I have to actively fight Big D over if I want to drive). The kids are still present and crazy as ever, though little d improved his behavior considerably when he realized we weren’t kidding when we told him we’d lock his toys away if we had to. And I’m starting to get back on track at work, instead of maniacally clawing my way through the piles of papers in an effort to not get buried too deeply.
My point? I’ve found that my cravings for the chocolate beast and its bastard chai stepchild have gone down a bit. My escape from the unending stress over the last few months has been walking into a calming commercial space with an espresso-tinted breeze wafting by. The uniformly friendly people taking way too much of my money for a drink I could make at home if I really wanted to. The decadent pastries that satisfy my unending sweet tooth for only 2 bucks a pop. It’s five minutes of not thinking of the weight bearing down on my shoulders, which is all I would allot myself in a workday, a weekend, a week. Now that I have a little time to breathe and, heaven forbid, reflect, I find I don’t need to go there as often.
But, whole paycheck? That’s another story completely. I don’t think I will ever be able to shed my addiction to food porn. Thank <insert your deity of choice here> the French organic chocolate truffles are seasonal.