As everyone who knows me is very aware, I work a lot. It permeates a lot of my life. Most nights I dream of work. Last night, for most of the night I dreamt I was walking a health and safety audit, for the other half, I was part of those terrible Just for Laugh pranks that I feel only Quebeckers enjoy. I catch myself using hilarious management speech in regular conversation, as I have mentioned before – but how exactly did you plan on explaining your expectations and finding something measurable to see if those expectations have been met?…Tiger? You meow all the time but I don’t feel you are adequately communicating your needs to me in a way I can act on confidently. I apologized for not having gloves on while preparing a cheese plate for a friend the other night. She was like , ‘what’? I thought I might apologize for lack of hair net too, but I left it. It came to a scary point the other night when I dropped a freshly poured ice cube tray on the floor and just stood there looking around for a wet floor sign but not leaving the scene of the crime in case someone might fall on it. It was after I awkwardly reached for a cloth that I realized I had the ability to move because there was only one other person in the house and I imagined that I could just tell him about it and if he did slide, he would probably not sue. Punchline: learn how to disconnect from work more so that one does not became a health and food safety manager in her own kitchen, while working on her staff’s (cat’s) communication skills.

I was reminded by someone yesterday that there was in fact a Simon’s in Ottawa now. I had completely forgotten and decided to check it out. It is extremely rare that I venture down to the Rideau Centre, because it is too far to walk, and if driving, you have to pay for parking and it’s downtown. Ew. I tried on some sweaters, but not nothing looked good. I went upstairs to the adult women clothing and wondered if this is really where I was supposed to be trying on clothes. I didn’t love any of the adult clothes, they didn’t have hideous cat prints or giant comfy chevron laced sweaters. I figured while I was there I would do a wander but I quickly realized that it was a hamster maze I may never figure out. It had changed so much that I didn’t recognize much. I thought I would check out the food court and it wasn’t there anymore. I realized the one thing I wanted to purchase were large containers for my obsession with baking muffins. But no, this was the Rideau Centre. There seemed to be a lot of shops with things that were nice, but nothing I needed, nothing practical like that. As I wandered around all I could hear was my my Dad’s voice bemoaning capitalism, and I thought, this is it, this says it all. 1000 expensive shops and not a damned thing I need (or could probably afford). I wandered into a store that I thought I might be able to connect with because of my years in the health food industry. After perusing a few items, my only reaction was – simmer the fuck down Saje, it’s just fucking essential oils. I don’t need to purchase a $60 “kit” to cure a headache while dance music is pumping into my brain. I can just use some $9 peppermint oil…and avoid your shop altogether.
When I realized I was doing the classic old person curmudgeon I decided to leave. Unfortunately, I took the next step into feeling like a senior and couldn’t find my car first try. I remembered I was on the Green level. Yay me! Although it turned out it was called the green garage, so all the levels were green. It only took me 2 different tours to figure it out, but I can always find my car. No big deal. Growing old is going to kick ass.

I bought tickets to Alt – J in Montreal. The week before the show I was panicking about what to wear. I have no fashionable clothes anymore; I have practical, comfy and hides-everything-clothes. I figured this would be a younger crowd considering this band was considered “indie” (I found out by researching them before the show, like a cool kid). My significant other said I should just go for the ironic Grandma look, as it may be the only hipster thing I could pull off. I looked down and I was wearing a Winner’s shirt/moomoo with my Grandma’s old sweater with ugly stitched flowers on it. I looked up and said, “Am I doing ironic Grandma right now unknowingly?” Yes, he said, you are, that outfit will be fine. On the night of the show I Instead did the opposite and wore a pleather coat like the cool 90’s kid I am.

I went to a housewarming party a couple weeks ago. I had spent half of the day before the party at the Chiro working on one helluva neck crick. I based my outfit on what would adequately cover the hot pack on my neck and cover my belly, as my choice of food for the day had been French fries. Only French fries. I was already feeling hilarious mingling expertly without moving my neck and hiding my hot pack, when I bit into a rice cracker and heard a crunch and realized half of my tooth had fallen out. This was the moment I realized it was all down hill from here.

I am going to the Grey Cup! I asked Ben yesterday who was even playing in it. He said Calgary and Toronto. I replied, so the Calgary Rough Riders will be playing the Toronto Rough Riders? Isn’t that how the CFL works, all the teams are rough riders?

I signed up for a 30 day workout challenge. Today was day 1. I skipped it in the morning because red river was flowing through my body angrily and causing pain. When I got home late this afternoon I put the video on, did the warm up, decided my floor was too creaky, stopped the video and went and made a drink. My commitment level is OFF THE CHARTS! Update – today was day 25, I have yet to do a workout…

I checked out a new gym the other day. I have given up on Goodlife and I wanted to see if it was me that hated working out or if it truly was the place I was at. This gym was tiny. The windows were filthy and it was empty – so I kind of loved it. I did a bit of cardio and then lifted some weights and, like most workouts, ended it early because there were so many other things I needed to do with my day. I imagine I am just too ADD to bum around a gym for more than 1/2 an hour because I don’t see immediate results. Like it’s totally not as satisfying as vacuuming the apartment, baking muffins, making soup, or writing. These things show me results, mostly in the fact that I can shove half of these things in my face after I have created them. Ha! I feel like this is in the same vein as the issue that I have where I also can’t ever relax. What kind of junkie limbo is that if I can’t work out or relax?! It doesn’t show me results! How did I become such a results-orientated crazy lady?! Considering there are some parts of my life in utter shambles, such as my finances, how come I don’t care for results on those things??Ahhhh. Am I alone in this ridiculous life dichotomy?