Thursday, June 30, 2011

you down with ADD (yeah you know me)

I'm a hypochondriac. I'm also a self-diagnosed ADD sufferer. My mom would argue that I was actually an ADHD sufferer (emphasis on the HD) but since it "never affected your grades we decided not to worry about getting you meds for it." I have a wise mama. Bear with me.

I feel like I spend about 15 waking hours with Jon a week. When he's at work I'm home and vice versa. This forces me to find my own entertainment when the blogs I stalk haven't been updated recently. Enter, laser. And cat.

Disclaimer: you may become motion sick from watching that. It's difficult to be both the cameraman and laser operator simultaneously.

I also think I was born in the wrong decade. I adore the baby names [what? Normal people who are childless and not presently trying to conceive don't think of baby names?] Marjorie, Hazel, Virginia, Franklin, Wesley, and Frederick. Jon doesn't. I also adored their fashion. I could have totally pulled this look off:
Image Source: Kaboodle
Which brings me to an inquiry. How can a young lady, such as myself, be so pear heavy yet so lacking in the junk in the trunk department? You know how your jeans get saggy in the bum when they need washed? Well thanks to my birthing hips and lack of hiney, yours truly always has saggy butt syndrome.

Also, I fought with the garage and the garage won. I got home from my parent's and ran upstairs to get the clicker for our newly claimed one-car garage (yay for both cars having a home that is not under the pine trees that leave irritating splotches of sap on my windshield). I could hear the motor working. The door would not yield.

In a tizzy, I made my way into the apartment. Where I couldn't dislodge my key from the door. Inanimate objects 2, Danielle 0.

Being how patient I am, we all know how gracefully I handled this situation.

My car:
... is outside, parked in front of mean garage door.

And my key:
...remains in the door for Jon to find when he gets home in approximately 6 minutes.

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