Right now, I'm on the bed with Paige, lounging in my weekend (and weeknight) uniform of sweat pants, a cami and a sweatshirt over it. With the collar cut out.
Collars on sweatshirts make me feel like I'm choking.
Paige is making little snorting noises while she sleeps.
Earlier today, she and I went on a walk and we both gave out at about the three mile point.
My hips were killing me (now that'll make you feel old), and Paige started walking at a snail's pace. We were almost a mile from home, but we made it.
Pathetic as we were.
Last night, hanging out with B-man, I made plans to run around today and do some shopping (for god knows what) while he watched football.
This morning, I couldn't, for the life of me, remember why I wanted to go anywhere.
So instead, after our walk, Paige and I assumed our position on the bed and watched three back-to-back episodes of 'The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills.'
For realsies. Paige wanted to.
And all the while, I sampled perfume.
Since receiving the L'Artisans from Chelie, and my own order of incense perfume samples, I have gone ape shit crazy, plain and simple.
Different perfumes are dabbed all over my body and I have sniffed until my nose and my 'smellie mind' is maxed out. That's not easy to do.
You know this has happened, however, when suddenly, you hate them all.
To top it off, I said 'no wine on Sunday' because I have a 7:00 meeting tomorrow morning and need to be chipper. So absolutely no drinking tonight.
But wait...I just remembered that this time next week, we'll be looking February square in the face.
If that doesn't merit a glass of champagne, I don't know what does.
Photo from people.com