Firing my cleaning lady.

So, I'm going to fire my cleaning lady someday. I keep wondering when that day will come--when she hasn't done what she's supposed to and I finally give up on her. I mean, lets be honest, she doesn't really like to clean.

Of course I'm talking about myself. I look forward to the day I fire me.

The other thing... I'm going to get rid of some shoes. Shoes I have only worn like 3 times. Shoes that make my feet hurt more than they have ever hurt before AND give me blisters. They are the silent devil. I tried them on and got them because they are a good brand and they were comfy--or so I thought. It seems my memory must be going. I wear these shoes and am reminded of the firey pits of hell. I put them on and they are comfortable, until I get to my destination and then holy of all goodness--they hurt. Then I don't wear them for approximately 4 months and think... hey, those shoes would be cute with this outfit. Oh, and they aren't hurting my feet! I'll wear them today! YAY! Only this leads to silent cursing and wishing their demise.

So on top of horrid shoes I also sit facing a window that reflects my image. Blast! My hair is awful. Seriously, I'm attempting to grow it out and it's awkward and I have roots and my husband mentioned how many grey hairs I had last night. This could have lead to general bad thoughts of him like when he snores, but it's just simply true. Fact is fact no matter how ugly it is--and this is ugly. Luckily for all this will be remedied tomorrow when I go and see Ryan. I heart him and his color trickery. Now if only he also knew how to fix shoes...