That's what time it is here. I'm at work (of course) and should be folding the sheets overflowing in the laundry trolley next to me but ... eh ... I hate it and don't wanna. So instead I'm here rambling to no one in particular.
The weekend was okay overall. Nice 3 mile-ish walk with my son to the Dollar Tree on Saturday for birthday party supplies. I really wasn't expecting him to make it without complaining but he did great ... until his medicine started to fade. Luckily we weren't too far from home at that point so there were no casualties or tears shed. This morning I logged in another 5 miles to get some random groceries and some sweatpants for my boy (or "cozy pants" as he calls them).
Still doing well, I think, with the LCHF. I didn't weigh after throwing myself out of bed Monday. I hit the last pill in my strip and didn't feel like seeing how mean my uterus is going to be to me. The good news is that for the first time in a long time I haven't been getting slammed with horrible cramps leading up to it. I honestly can't remember the last time I came to the end of a strip without feeling like I wanted to carve my innards out with a rusty spoon. Maybe I'll brave the scale in a couple of days.
15 minutes wasted and the laundry still sits there. If it was a towel night I wouldn't care so much. Towels are easy peasy lemon squeezey. But oooooh no. It's sheet night and, from the looks of it, we got a new shipment of fitted sheets in that need to get ready for use. I hate fitted sheets.