I'm having one of those horrible, hormonal days. The kind of day where you go to buy Easter candy for your thirty something year old husband who only likes one kind of candy for Easter, three days before the actual holiday, only to realize that the shelves are empty due to the hyper vigilant suburbanites that have planned ahead, cleaning off the shelves in advance to please their spoiled children who expect Christmas-equivalent gifts on Easter Sunday. Kill me please. Then I yelled at said husband after foregoing my lunchtime exercise to run around feverishly to several different stores searching between countless bags of the leftover no-frills jelly beans and coming up with NOTHING I NEED. Poor guy said he would pick up his own Easter candy. But the damage was done. I was in a rage, went back to work and ate leftover cake from yesterday's celebratory events. Two hunks resulting caloric damages to the tune of 600.
I'm going kickboxing in a half hour. May I not come home and stuff my face.
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