It’s been one

I still haven’t decided if I feel like the prince or the dragon, although I’m definitely draggin’ (get it?)

I’ll start off tonight’s post with the most important update: Marina is mostly back to normal. The only reason I say mostly is because there’s still a patch of her tail that’s been shaved, and seeing fluff-bald-fluff is a little freaky. But she’s bouncy and chatty and loving again, so I’m considering that a victory.

But otherwise, this week has been one from the exhaustion of getting over the slump of a sick kitty, to my allergies flaring up and finally yesterday morning I got some news about my employment in the future. I’m not at a point where I can go into all the details about the “what” and “why” on here. The most I’m willing to say is that the past 30-ish hours has been an emotional rollercoaster. First I was alarmed, then disappointed but not surprised. Then yesterday afternoon during an appointment with my banker came the sadness, the kind where I had to quickly give myself a stern talking to so I wouldn’t lose my composure in public.

When I was doing my grocery shopping on Tuesday I decided to pick up a four-pack of wine coolers. I maybe drink a couple of times a year, at most, so I’m not sure what got into me to pick them up. Maybe it was a wild hair, or maybe my gut is just that good at sensing when I’m going to need some reinforcements. But last night, after the bank and a quick trip to Giant Eagle for dinner (because Sad Allison doesn’t believe in cooking), I cracked open a bottle of Seagrams Strawberry Daiquiri. These were staples back in college, my drink of choice when I was both euphoric and miserable. Last night I got home, angry cried and put away my wine cooler with the pepperoni pizza Lunchables and the bag of Reese eggs I bought.

I don’t recommend the Reese eggs. Part of it has to with the fact my body is changing and doesn’t seem to like all the sugar in candy anymore. The other part is because the amount you’re getting with what you’re paying with inflation isn’t worth the price.

This all brings me to tonight. It’s a Friday and St. Patrick’s Day. I’m already curled up on the couch half-awake. None of this week went as I thought it would, and it’s dragged on. My diet has been atrocious and I’ve not been running. And to add further insult to injury, I’m also premenstrual.

I would love to have some great story or message to send you off with, but instead all I can say is this – when in doubt or going through hard times, an early bed time can never hurt. Which is exactly where I’m headed after I get off the couch and clean up my kitchen.

Keep your heads up, Reader-friends.

Yours in life,


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