Self-medicating

Today was a double ice cream sandwich-chocolate chip cookie dough-coconut cake ball-chocolate chunk brownie sundae kind of day. But since I couldn’t have that, I powered through an episode of Top Chef on the wedmill and then sequestered myself and my cat child in the media room for a couple rounds of my current favorite TV show.

The real world is driving me to Dexter, which, when you think about it, could potentially be more harmful than all the other job-related vices combined.

One week.

- Sarah, Sarah, what a boob you are! I spent all of Tuesday thinking it was Wednesday and all of Wednesday thinking it was Thursday (even though I reminded myself of the actual day just before bed on Tuesday night). Not only has my confusion made my week seem longer, but it has also interfered with the timing of this post. Worry not, though, the title is correct.

- Until very recently, I'd been stuck in a breakfast rut--nothing passed over my lips but yogurt before 11:00AM. I liked yogurt because not only was it tasty and varied, but it was also full of satiating protein and low in calories. Eventually, though, it became a bit monotonous. It got so bad, in fact, that I finally started skipping breakfast all together, and any nutritionist'll tell you that this is not a habit to get into--not only do you not jump-start your metabolism in the AM, but you also set yourself up for a binge in the evening. If I wanted to keep my diet on track, I had to nip that practice in the bud. Enter apples and peanut butter: it's high in deliciosity and hunger-busting fat and protein and still low enough in calories that I don't feel guilty om noming it every single morning.

- Right around the time I graduated, I thought that self-employment would be a hoot! After all, I could make my own hours, work when I needed to, and generally lead a pretty relaxed life. WRONG! I'm currently juggling 2.75 jobs to ensure that I rack up enough hours to pay the bills (and buy pretty clothes and entertain myself). Whatever could that mean? Well, I still have my web job (that's one), I was recently hired for a new writing job (that's as much as I'm allowed to reveal about job two), I still drive my sweet freshman home from school every day (that's job .5--not hard or particularly time-consuming, but a daily task none the less), and I'm an occasional Spanish tutor for some kiddies in the area (that's job .25; I said "occasional"). I get up early and work super late just to keep up, which means...

- Good golly I'm tired! All of the responsibilities and late-nighters make me feel like I'm in college again, and not necessarily in a good way (there's no summer break or bar in sight!). I'm cleaving to the idea that I can sleep when I'm dead. Or maybe on my vacation next month!

- Egads, Mad Men is a good show! It's nostalgic, artful, and absolutely titillating! (Not to mention subtly offensive and enjoyably enraging.) Sean and I started Netflixing it a couple months ago and just received our last DVD in the mail yesterday. I'm down right depressed that I'm going to have to wait until the new season begins to find out what happens to the marginalized girls and macho boys at Sterling Cooper. Who thought it would be a good idea to make the seasons of such a well-written and well-dressed show just 13 measly episodes long?

- Remember when I said I was going to try to figure out a way to push up the wedding date? Fuhgeddahboutit. With all the other things that are going on (including but not limited to the aforementioned 2.75 jobs), it seems impractical to throw wedding planning into the mix now as well. Besides, Sean and I are both gung-ho about having the exact wedding we want, and I'm afraid that if I tried to plan it in six months some of the details would be left out. My mom's friend wondered if Sean and I would be able to live separate lives for the next year and a half, to which my only response was a series of "I think I cans." In any case, I appreciate all of the so sweet comments a few of you ladies left on that post!

- Yesterday I had to exfoliate my knees. MY KNEES! Why? Because they looked and felt like neglected elbows. Why? Because I bust my butt doing a TON of girly push-ups every other day as part of the Power 90 regimen, and the carpet in my workout room is very rough indeed. However, while my knees may say "floozy!" my guns totally say "bang!"

On the agenda

This overcast Sunday is the perfect day for brunch at The Original Pancake House and a Mad Men; New York, I Love You; and Match Point marathon (side note: Sean has hijacked the Netflix account). I do solemnly swear that by the end of the day Sean's couch will be permanently marked by my 200-pound butt.

Good things, pt. 1

Breaking down some of the sweet things I got from Santa and my family this Christmas:

1. Because I lacked the proper storage vessel, I used to keep all of my jewelry in a small tin box. Whenever I wanted to wear a piece, I'd have to untangle it from a giant wad of chains and hooks, until now: baby brother gave me this filigree jewelry hook [that I found on the Urban Outfitters site and put on my Christmas list] and doesn't he just have the best taste? The space on the vanity in my bathroom is limited, so I love that this goes on the wall. I'm also very fond of the way it looks--it matches the style of my bedroom (to which my bathroom is attached) perfectly, and I'm head over heels in love with the style of my bedroom.

2. Last year for Christmas (or was it my birthday? I can never differentiate) I got a couple of Margaret Atwood books and absolutely devoured them, so this year I put one more on my list. Surfacing is billed as "the story of a talented woman artist who goes in search of her missing father on a remote island in northern Quebec. Setting out with her lover and another young couple, she soon finds herself captivated by the isolated setting, where a marriage begins to fall apart, violence and death lurk just beneath the surface, and sex becomes a catalyst for conflict and dangerous choices." The feminist overtones in these books are quite pronounced, so it doesn't make all that much sense that I, a veritable Phyllis Schlafly in my own right, enjoy them so much, but c'est la vie.

3. On Diane! On Carla! On Coach! On Sam! When Cheers died in 1993, it took the whole sitcom genre with it (Friends and Seinfeld* notwithstanding, or so I'm told). At least the place where everybody knows your name (including mine--NORM!) can live on in DVD sets and in our hearts forever.
*After reading my post, Sean protested (loudly) that I accidentally neglected Seinfeld (aka the another mega-popular post-Cheers sitcom that I did not watch). Of course, according to the Wiki-official List of most-watched television broadcasts, Cheers was indeed more popular than both Friends and Seinfeld. In fact, the only show that was more popular than Cheers--M*A*S*H--was 10 years younger. So my argument still stands.

4. Beatles or Stones? Beatles. Don't know what to listen to in the car? White album. Wondering what you should name your next ungrateful psycho hellion cat? Dame Eleanor Rigby McCartney (or "Rigby" for short). No matter the question, the answer always relates to the Beatles, so when my smarty-pants boyfriend was wondering, "What should I get Sarah for Christmas?" the answer was, of course, a Sgt. Pepper's puzzle. Sean's even promised to glue all 1000 pieces together for me after we finish it and mount it on the wall (next to his Abbey Road poster, presumably) in our eventual residence so that John, Paul, George, and Ringo (and the one and only Billy Shears!) can bless our home with love, love, love.