Happy New Year!

Happy New Year!

So it’s been awhile since I’ve last posted, and really, it’s because I’m lazy. Here’s the breakdown on what I haven’t accomplished since Jan. 1 due to this bout of laziness:
Laundry: I won’t tell you how long since I last did all my clothing instead of just one-offs of desperation
Indoor Christmas decorations: I did take down the outdoor lights and decorations on Jan. 2 – I don’t want to be THAT person in the neighborhood – cough – you know who you are on Othello Cove who not only has their lights up, but still has them on at night
Cleaning: I think those of you who know me well, know this is a constant battle for Justin and me.
Painting: I actually started painting our front bedroom and guest bathroom right after the New Year’s and quickly stopped after a regrettable incident that ended up with both Walter and me in the same bathtub rinsing blue paint off of ourselves. Neither of us was pleased. I also can’t figure out how to paint this corner of the bathroom without removing the toilet.
Working out: Actually, I remedied that on Sunday and have worked out every day since, so I think I’m un-lazy now in that category. And to make sure I stayed on track, I signed up for the Capitol 10K on March 30.

And then obviously blogging (Arnold, you probably think I’m dead and have stopped reading… *teardrop*).

So what better way to start back blogging then to discuss my joy and subsequent fear in attempting to killing a creature this morning.

The situation began last night. I had just gotten back from working out (i.e. ridding myself of the lazy bug I had been plagued with for the last three or four weeks), and I’m talking with Justin at the foot of the stairs inside the house. We heard this weird buzzing noise, but couldn’t find where it was coming from because it was dark, and well, we’re lazy so we didn’t try very hard.

Flash forward to this morning when I’m getting ready in my bathroom and Walter starts barking crazy-like. He’s not much of a barker, so I take his “I am dog and I will defend the JB-House honor” bark pretty seriously.

He’s over at the front door and so I check to see if anyone is at it – no one. In fact, not a single “person” was there.

What was there could only be described as the biggest flying roach I had ever seen perched on the window right above the front door.

After a slight shriek, I think quickly and grab the Raid under the sink, the three-step stair thingy from the bathroom where we are/were painting and make haste towards this evil flying demon of rodents.

I’ll admit it, I’m pretty sure Walter was weirded out by my odd laughter and profanity-filled threats towards this otherwise innocent rodent while I was spraying liquid death at it. But my laughter quickly ended and confusion and slight fear set in when I realized the thing wasn’t dying. Maybe it weakened him, but spraying a fourth can of the Raid didn’t kill him.

I didn’t know what to do. So I left the mess I had made (Raid dripping from the top window) and gathered my stuff to go to work. At one point, I went to check on it, thinking he had finally bit it. But as I approached it raised its head and looked right at me.

I quickly chalked it up to coincidence and continued gathering my stuff, but as I made my way to the coat closet that’s right next to the front door, the crazy roach lifted its head again from its deathbed and looked right at me. And then it telepathically informed me I’m next. (or at least, I fell like it was sending me some type of equally horrible death threat)

So I yelped and ran out of the house and haven’t gone back. I hope Walter is okay. If I don’t blog again, you’ll know why.

New Year, New Me?

Inevitably, every January 1, myself – along with approximately 250 million Americans – have this stupid notion that resolutions are key to a successful and prosperous coming year, along with black eyed peas (yuck). And by April 24 – inevitably again – 95 percent of Americans come to the conclusion that resolutions totally suck.

So why do we play this game with ourselves? Do we enjoy setting up inevitable failure, cherish the promise of shattered goals, cling to the off-chance that we will become that five percent of Americans who lose weight or whatever that thing is we are “resolving”(as evident by the “results not typical” smaller-than-your-nose-hair typeset below their picture on the 2 a.m. infomercials)?

Really, the only time I am able to keep any type of promise to myself is during Lent, when – as a Catholic – the fear of God’s wrath instills some type of impenetrable force field around your promise to workout more, stop eating candy/fattening foods, and read the bible nightly. Because, of course, Jesus’ love for me and my BMI go hand in hand… right?

The point is, why do we kid ourselves with seemingly unattainable promises of a better life?

Also, why have I used the term inevitable or a similar function of the word so many times in this posting? Probably lack of a decent vocabulary…

I don’t really know why we make goals we can’t keep, so my resolution this year is no resolutions at all. Sure, I still want to lose weight, and yes, I’d love to focus more on my spiritual enlightenment, but I made those promises to myself back in September, not January 1.

Maybe because I didn’t want to be like everyone else, but more because I wanted to set my own goals on my own time, my own way – not on some day set in stone by Hallmark, 24 Hour Fitness, or Nutrisystem Nourish. (Which, by the way, those commercials do make that food look yummy… but I decided to make my own food myself – oh, and did you notice those commercials started running right around the holiday season? Coincidence – of course not! Commercialism is in every aspect of our lives, integrated to a ridiculous degree – but that is for a different blog posting)

So here is my ultimatum to you – stop defining your life by a date, by one or two unrealistic goals that will only cause you a greater setback when you don’t reach them. Take baby steps, meditate or pray on how you can better improve your life – but make it realistic and obtainable and not according to a calendar, because when you do reach a goal, it’s the best feeling in the world (results not typical).

BTW, I didn’t have any black eyed peas today.