It’s a month closer to Spring, Reader, and that makes Trixie and her
seven three kittah’s fill up with mucho happiness.
I’ve got the Wanderlust this morning and have looked at all of the following trips:
1/ Alaskan Cruise for June
2/ Trip to Bora Bora
3/ Flights to Kauai
4/ Driving trip to Arizona
5/ Las Vegas
6/ New Orleans
So you see, Reader, I’m really quite flexible with destination and am just basically suffering from Gasoline Ass, a condition coined by mi madre back in The Day, and also probably by other people but I heard it from her first. So there.
Now I just need to keep repeating my mantra loudly and steadily, “Money Flows To Me Freely and Easily,” per my hero Jen Sincero, and I’ve been saying it quite regularly but so far only about five dollars is flowing freely towards me. I’ll take a pile of five dollar bills, maybe I just need to be more specific.
I basically need a job with a lot of time off. Like, a six months on and six months off, with a paycheck that feels like two full-time jobs. Or I need an invention, which I’m still working on quietly and behind the scenes, Reader, so take that when you think I’m sitting here not doing much at all. I mean, you’re right for the most part, but in between napping and resting and happy hour cocktails, I’m working on things.
What I have realized is how dern difficult it is to keep Chez Bang Bang cleaned up, Reader! I mean, I’m HOME ALL THE DAYS and it’s still not spic and span. I sweep and dust and pick up and tidy this and toady* that, and there’s still just stuff all the time that needs to be done, and what I’ve realized is that when I’m working there is just no way in hell’s green earth** that I’ll ever have a celebrity-showplace-home because it’s IMPOSSIBLE.
* doesn’t make any sense
**neither does this
On that note, I’m going to go toady something up around here. I have to go to “work” tonight with My Mister, and I’ve been toad I need to dress up which also means wearing a bra, which frankly flies in the face of how Sunday’s should be spent.
*I say “work” because I’m not actually getting paid, Reader. I’m out-of-the-goodness-of-my-hearting it.
Let’s do Sunday the right way, Reader.