Sunday, March 11, 2012

My Stress Overfloweth

I am NOT a 13 year old girl obsessed with Justin Beiber.  No.  I am 36.  36 years old with a massive breakout.  I feel RIDICULOUS.  And this covered in make me, it looked far worse.  Hey, my eye makeup came out nicely and I just did my brows last night.  Too bad my hair is still a wreck.

I went to church by myself.  The kids just couldn't get up and I decided to be kind and let them sleep in.  I came home to mayhem.  Guess I taught myself a lesson.  Being nice to teenagers rarely works out.

I love weather.  One of the few things not controlled by humans, and I love its raw and wild beauty.  This is my neighbor's yard directly behind me.  Nice cloud bank!

Swirling clouds, never turned green, never heard the siren noise.  Phew.

This is the view down my street. 
I worked 46 hours last week.  I know it's Sunday, but I'm about to change into my pajamas and try to work for about 3-4 hours.  I intend to work about a 9-10 hour day on Monday, but on Tuesday, I have a going away party to attend, so I can only work an 8 hour day.  One of the girls I work with decided to move back to Pennsylvania to be with her kids and grandchildren.  I don't blame her one bit.  I will miss her terribly, especially since our department hasn't hired anyone to replace her (that I know of) and they're going to split up her work and just give it to us.  So my workload is about to increase...again.  I'm seriously trying not to cry just thinking about how awful this is going to be.

My hair: pulled back completely when I'm sick of it.

Liked my outfit, hated my skin.  Have to wear another colored cami under this top; it's very close to my actual skin tone!

My goodness do I just love him.  Although I wish he'd stop wearing camo.  Kinda over that.  I'd love to give him a makeover, but that will never happen.  Do any of you girls help your husband/boyfriends pick out their clothes.  I do not even attempt.  My guy is set in his ways.


Taylor said...

I told you already about my twitchy eye, right? Stress is so awesome. My husband picks out his own athletic clothes (which he has a LOT of) and his own bum-around-the-house clothes. But everything else, I pick out. It's kind of fun - he's 6'3" and about 190 lbs with a male model build. It's like having my own paper doll.

Sarah R said...

See, my husband has no athletic clothes. He dresses like he's about to go hunting/fishing/hunting & fishing at any moment. He has worn this to church. I am fairly certain the last time I saw him in a suit, I was walking down an aisle.