- My Monday/Tuesday to-do list became my week’s to-do list, which is okay.
- I want to go to the beach soon and work on correcting my tennis tan (I’d say “farmer’s tan,” except that if I said that out loud, my garden would start laughing at me in the most rowdy and embarrassing way), but Danny’s threatening to cloud over my weekend. Shoo!
- Speaking of the abomination in my backyard (ahem, veggie garden), there are a few watermelons growing right now. I know by now that their only intent is to get my hopes up before they die before becoming fully ripe. The garden so depresses me that I hardly even go into my backyard anymore, which means the weeds have been having their way with my roses, which further depresses me, which makes me stay out of my backyard. Vicious cycle.
- When you play tennis at night and get sweaty, the giant lights that keep the court lit up make you sparkle. True story.
- Last night I used store credit to buy a necklace, some earrings, and a bottle of black nail polish. Because I can. And because I had black nail polish when I was thirteen, and it seemed like the time to revisit that trend. When I showed it to Jesse, he moaned that I was going to keep trying to get him to let me paint his nails black—which I had totally forgotten about! But once he mentioned it, I squealed with glee. I have spent the last nine years trying to convince him to let me paint his nails. I think it would be funny. Black seems like a manly color too, no?
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Once a man paints his nails black, you take him down a long dark road. Next thing you know there’ll be unexplained bills from Hot Topic and Spencer’s…weird, bad poetry hidden around the house…industrial music playing at all hours of the night. It all ends very poorly, I can assure you.
Now hot pink…that’s a truly manly color.
I would *never* listen to industrial music, regardless of the color of my nails… :^)
Oooh, hot pink…
Poor garden! That is so sad!