Working on it

I've been trying to write.  Blogging.  Fiction.  Anything.  I can't seem to muster enough brain cells together to finish more than a sentence or two.

I've been feeling more than a little scatterbrained lately and my social anxiety and OCD are coming back in waves.  I should probably talk to my doctor about going back on a small amount of medication again but that just seems like quitting, you know?

New Year's Eve this year is looking like a clusterfuck.  A bunch of us are going to the Wild game, then to dinner, then the next part is fuzzy.  Every year a friend-of-a-friend's husband puts on an invite-only party with fancy dress at a local establishment.  A bunch of us were originally against going this year because 1) it's across town, 2) BAR PRICES, 3) the dress code, and 4) getting a taxi on NYE is nigh impossible.  We were going to do multiple house parties and a progressive dinner thing, but then out-of-towners got thrown into the mix and suddenly everyone's like, "let's show 'em around town!"

I haaaaate going out on NYE.  They don't call it Amateur Night for nothing.  The last thing I want to do is stand ass-to-elbow with a pack of suburbanites who come to the "big city" once a year, pay over-inflated alcohol prices (after waiting at an understaffed bar just to order), then worry about how to get home.  Husband and I are more into getting into our jammies, drinking our own alcohol, and going to bed at a reasonable hour.

So we decided to do the hockey game and dinner and then skedaddle back home.  I predict I will be asleep by 11:30.

Dear Target: Your comment form is too short.

Sorry I'm using the generic comment form, but I couldn't find one specifically for Archer Farms.

I'm surprised to find myself writing today about some Archer Farms Lunch Bowls I had yesterday and today.  I've never felt so strongly about food that I actually had to complain to the company about it.  First time for everything, I guess.  I get that I'm complaining about something that cost me less than $1.50 each, but I'm mostly irritated because I work on one side of Minneapolis and Target is on the other, and I don't have a ton of time for lunch so now I have to go back across town to Target (the only grocery store in the area) and buy more food for lunch.

Yesterday I tried the Vegetable Masala bowl.  I'm not going to beat around the bush -- it tasted like burnt dish soap.  I didn't even know what burnt dish soap tasted like before yesterday.  Also, rather than being called "Vegetable Masala," it should be called "Rice, Four Lentils, and About Half of the Vegetable Content of Bowl Noodle Masala".  I took about three and a half bites before I had to throw it away.

I am right now torturing myself with the Kung Pao Noodles.  Seriously, did anyone actually taste this before rubber stamping the production?  It tastes like sweet, insipid, stale weirdness.  This is not kung pao.  It's not even imitation kung pao.  And I loves me some kung pao.  To top this all off, the peanuts are actually, for real, rancid.  Not even stale.  Rancid.  Another four bites.  Into the trash.

In general I've been quite happy with the quality and taste of other Archer Farms products, but something must have happened in the QA process here.  I have a Couscous Primavera bowl in my cabinet and I'm considering taking bets around the office over how many bites I can choke down before I give up in defeat.

First World Problem

Last Sunday Husband took Lily down to her uncle's house to watch football and spend some quality time with her cousin.  And so I found myself, for the first time in months, by myself with nothing but free time on my hands.

No demanding toddler?  No husband occupying the TV with his video games?  No feelings of being chained by housework and childcare?  What do I do with my time?  The world was my oyster -- or at least the part of the world I could walk to.  Meh, it's easier to stay in the house.  I had options!

I baked some bread and rolls, then watched some Good Eats in the dining room, then relocated to the living room to fire up a video game for the first time in, like, forever.  Hey!  Uncharted 2!  I hear this is a fun game!  But the controls suck ass and I can't see anything and I'm not good at shooting people.  OK, what's on TV?  Crap... crap... 80's crap... crap... same old cooking shows... crap... and shitty cartoons.  OK...  How about some Netflix!  What Would Jesus Buy!  Haha!  Well, this is kind of long but I dig the message, and now it's over... What about the computer?  Don't really wanna play Minecraft right now... Can't do much in Glitch because I'm still waiting for Mining IV and I'm swimming in currants with nothing to spend them on... Don't really wanna click around on Reddit outside of work... Don't feel like exercising... Too tired to read....

I am unfulfilled.

In which my two-year-old completely freaks me out

We moved our bedroom down to the basement this weekend so guests don't have to go traipsing through our bedroom to get to the bathroom and so we can finally have an actual dining room.  With a table and everything.  No more eating on the couch.  And we have room for our Christmas Yule Holiday tree.

So things are in a state of disarray and I'm slowly trying to clean and organize it all.

I put Lily to bed last night and went downstairs to tackle the mountain of clothes that needed to be put away.  A little while later I went back upstairs to bring some towels and some of Lily's clothes up and get a glass of water.  So I was putting things away in the kitchen, then I walked into the living room and my sweet, beautiful daughter scared me half to death.

She was sitting silently on the couch.  She had been there the whole time.

"Play wif my toy," she said simply, holding up her toy airplane we recently unearthed from the basement.

My mind boggled.  The child gate was still latched in front of her closed bedroom door and the bathroom door to her room was still locked.  I have absolutely no idea how she got out of her bedroom.  She must have ninja-climbed over the gate and shut her door.  I didn't hear a thing from downstairs, and I was listening.