Let’s start with the good stuff.

1. Cleaned and redecorated the entire house, living room/kitchen shown above (with Puppy photobomb).

2. Made some nice art. (anyone who says you can’t create texture with multicolored Sharpies is LYING to you)

3. Cuddled with the kitten and puppy and made even more art in the form of a scarf. (Yes, that’s the biggest crochet hook they had.)

4. Headed on an adventure next weekend to Wendover with a friend, thus bypassing the entirety of Valentines Day. (No fucking thanks, Hallmark).

5. Quit Chantix after 8 days due to the oft-touted side effects of being moody, irritable, and having viciously vivid dreams. (Still on nicotine. Judge me)*

6. Was ultimately extremely productive this weekend due to having a life-rending therapy session preceded by a heart-rending week. (People don’t ‘rend’ enough these days)**

7. Bought houseplants and set up seeds to sprout on the windowsill in their cute mini homemade greenhouses (read: tape, plastic wrap, potting soil, pots.)***

8. Got a wicker coffee table/storage box, upon which I placed my portfolio album, and is currently Kitten’s favorite place to sleep. (everyone’s a critic).

9. took a hot, lavender-salt bath with accompanying salt scrub that made my skin silky and fragrant. (I am nothing if not salty).

10. Had early dinner with family traveling through town, and now have a veritable VAT of extra molé in the fridge for later (or right now. It’s gonna be now.)

*These ‘vivid dreams’ mostly centered on the never-going-to-actually-happen eventuality of getting closure and even peace from my marriage. Not something I care to ruminate on for hours while I’m attempting to rest from a day of feeling as if the world was caving in. Fuck. Chantix.

**My therapist is a lovely human, and very good at her job. However, I kinda want to throttle her neck for pulling my surface bullshit away and digging out chards from my wounded and broken heart. It has to happen, (ever tried to heal AROUND a sliver? that’s just asking for infection) but it hurts, and I hurt, and I was raw and tender all weekend. If I want to hold the majority of humanity in contempt for their cowardice, isn’t that my call? No? That’s literally what I pay her to not let me do? Dammit.

***’Oh, Jady got plants again. let’s see how long those poor bastards survive.’ well, assumed haters, they’re on my window ledge and on my fridge, so I can’t avoid them and still eat/look out the window. I think we all know I’m not going to stop eating. Like a big ol’ bowlful of leftover MOLÉ. We could squabble all day about how the only reason puppy and kitten are alive are because they’re incredibly loud when they need something, but that’s no reason to think that silence will be the death of these plants. I mean, it’s incredibly astute of you to put it that way, but not my point, dear reader.

So when you asked me how I was doing, did you actually care to know? Or were you just making conversation.