My gut, my glut.
This picture makes no sense.
|photo credit: Pigeon at St Mark's Square via photopin (license)|
I've discovered something about myself. I hate gluttony. I hate overeating, I hate feeling lethargic, I hate too much sugar, I hate too much time indoors, I hate boring TV shows, I hate 'richness' whatever it is, not rich people or things, just whatever that thick, greasy, icky feeling of 'richness' is. I hate it. I hate five days of rain and ice without snow, and crappy music, and Taylor Swift singing "This Christmas" while I'm in the grocery store on a Saturday afternoon. It's all annoying, and I hate it. I hate it when people do too much or anything, or too little of anything. I hate my crappy typing, and the way I can't spell 'thesaurus' after all these years. I need a thesaurus to spell thesaurus. I hate wearing socks in bed. I hate when I wake up and someone's used up all the toilet paper and I have to get creative and think about personal hygiene at 6am before the coffee's even been made. I hate dirty dishes. I hate my vacuum. I hate fake sweeteners.
But . . .
I love stretching. I love feeling good. I love being light and happy. I love sunlight. I love birds--all of 'em. I love the esoteric. I love dimples. I love the color black. I love green tea. I love carrots. I love cats. I love my dog. I love being outside. I love old movies. I love writing. I love chap-stick. I love 1970s soul music. I love The Beatles. I love Bob Dylan. I love Chris Isaak. I love cooking shows. I love Levi's. I love Beck. I love sea seat. I love coffee. I love driving in my car with the windows open listening to Keane. I love my kids. I love museums. I love Picasso. I love laughing. I love cake. I love pranks. I love wine. I love lakes. I love mascara. I love pianos and guitars. I love cussing (in my head). I love my bed (and rhyming). I love my books. I love my friends. I love to sing Freddy Mercury. I love road trips. I love being on stage. I love records. I love books.
I love you guys.
It evens out. Almost.
This might have all been fueled by Excedrin. If you read it, thanks.