201

Huh, this is my 201st post.
I didn’t even notice that #200 was so near, Obviously it passed without any acknowledgement on my part, but I’m not one for celebrations, anyway.
There is little hope that this will be a very exciting post, but, 201 seems like a nice number, nevertheless. According to Wikipedia, 201 is an area code in northern New Jersey. 202 is the Washington DC area code. Ours is 703 and it used to be 706 in Georgia. I still get confused.
Numbers are not my game. Craig and Caroline put me to shame. They remember everything and I still can’t remember Craig’s cell phone number.

Today has been one of those days in which I didn’t sit down until 2pm. Sure, I sat in the car and at the little desk at Caroline’s school while I stuffed the Thursday folders, but that doesn’t count. Today was a play hooky from exercise, spend two hours and copious amounts of money at the commissary, burn 400 calories unloading said groceries, find room in an already full pantry and fridge, wolf down a sandwich while standing at the kitchen counter, go to the school to stuff Thursday folders kind of day. With the exception of the time spent at Caroline’s school, I hate that day. I hate it with the passion of a million fiery suns.

I used to love my trips to commissary. Somehow, someway, I’ve done a 180 on the subject.
Little trips to the store don’t bother me. Trips involving a cart filled to overflowing, a printed out receipt as tall as me and 347 trips up and down the stairs to unload the groceries from the car, aren’t placed too high on my list. However, it’s not like you can just not buy food, half expecting the food fairy to make a delivery on your doorstep once a week, thereby relieving you of your grocery shopping duties.

The problem is, as I recently lost my cooking ju ju, I also lost my zest for frugal food shopping. Some enviable ladies out there in blogland can feed their families on $50 a week. Even though I’m not exactly a busy person, bogged down by work, lots of kids and well….a social life, I just cannot find the passion to focus my attention on scouring stores for bargain basement deals. I could quite easily shop at several different stores a week, cherry picking the best deals. It might be nice to lower the food bill, but I’m not so sure I want to put forth that much effort. I think I’ve just resolved myself to the fact that we’ll never get by on a really low grocery budget.

Most of the time I’m ok with that; but on days like today when I went HUGELY and GINORMOUSLY over budget, I feel a tad bit guilty. Sure, we’ll eat the food. Sure, it won’t go to waste. But, did I really NEED to buy that much? It also seems to be that I’m out of all the essentials at the same time. Toilet paper, paper towels, laundry detergent, ice cream, diet coke. You know, the important stuff. It all adds up.

Bah. I hate commissary day. It never fails to put me in a bad mood. On the bright side, my quads benefited from all the stair climbing whilst holding heavy bags, but my mood hasn’t fared as well.

Grocery shopping seems to be an oft griped about subject on my blog. I really should get over it; buck up and take it like a good little soldier. I wish I didn’t gripe so much. It probably just makes me seem like a bitter person. I’m not bitter; I just hate going to the commissary.

Ok, lets see if I can find something pleasant to yap about.
It’s raining. I like rain. Our plants need some rain as I’ve been neglectful on the watering front. The leaves are changing so I guess I shouldn’t waste the water, but I’d really, really hate to kill my landlord’s plants. It’s bad enough I burned a hole in the counter top and probably broke the garbage disposal. I’d hate to be found guilty of horticulture neglect, as well. In all honesty, I don’t think I broke the garbage disposal; I just need to figure out where the reset button is. Unfortunately, my keen eyes are failing me and I haven’t quite located it yet. I should google it. I just haven’t gotten around to it yet.
Ack, what is wrong with me.

I’ve traded my usual perk and optimism in for doom, gloom and malaise. It’s the commissary, I tell you.
Yesterday I wasn’t so grumpy. Yesterday I had a great run and Body Pump class, cooked five pounds of bourbon chicken, baked a pan of chess bars, washed 147 dishes, yapped with the moms at soccer practice, watched Top Chef and ate everything set in front of my face. It was a good day. And man, was I hungry. Seriously, folks. I ate and ate and ate. Hopefully my metabolism kept up with my food input.

Thankfully I haven’t been as hungry today. Although I did do my fair share of damage to the peanut butter jar and the few remaining chocolate chips in the chocolate chip jar. I have a diet pepsi waiting for me upon return from picking Caroline up from school, to which I’m greatly looking forward to.

It’s the little things in life.

I’m also chomping at the bit to get out my fall decorations. Maybe we’ll do that today. We’re free from any extracurricular activities today. Perhaps I’ll wash away my commissary gripes with a few wooden pumpkins and some leaf garland.

Pumpkins have the uncanny knack of putting a smile on my face.

Ok, gotta scoot. School gets out in three minutes.

I was late yesterday and I’d hate to be a repeat offender.

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