And no, I'm not talking about a lawnmower; we have one of those. What I need is something more along the lines of this:
You see, Brian just left with his stepdad to go help him out of town for the day and this means I have the rare Saturday to myself, home alone like Maculay Culkin. And to celebrate this freedom, there is a lot I planning on getting done before he arrives home sometime tonight. The biggest of which is getting rid of a crapload of shit (or a shitload of crap, whichever way you want to put it) that he won't miss but that's cluttering up the house and messing with my Feng Shui, man. His junk is totally harshing my vibe, dude.
Excuse me; it's 6:55 a.m. and I haven't had nearly enough coffee yet.
I've now made all the money I plan on making on the clothes. Between the yard sale and consignment store, I ended up almost $200 in the black, all total profit, so I feel it was a rousing success. I got some new clothes out of the deal, my friend Sheri got practically an entire new work wardrobe from it and I'm done. Time to get the rest out of my sight forever. I've done more sorting, hanging, pressing, and folding lately than I care to think about, so Goodwill, here I come and you best be ready to help me hoist that metric ton of garments into your store because I'm not willing to hurt myself this late in the game. And, well there will be other things going away as well. Whether it is to Goodwill or the nearest trash recepticle, some of his junk is, as N'Sync would say going Bye Bye Bye. What he doesn't see go out the door in a Hefty Lawn bag won't hurt him, and the last thing I'd ever want to do is hurt my husband.
In other, even more fascinating news, I finally decided on a face scraping system and it is the following:
It was between Neutrogena and Oil of Olay and the main reason I chose this one was the difference in price, like ten bucks. I figure I'll try this first and I can always move on to Olay if I'm not satisfied, but since I love all things Neutrogena, I think I'll like it. Besides, there are plenty of years left, like the rest of my life, to keep testing out anti-aging products. And if all else fails, I'm not afraid to resort to Botox eventually. Well, I AM afraid, but that doesn't mean I won't do it.
Okay, time to stop writing and start hauling; time's a wastin'. Wish me luck my lower back holds up and I'm not in traction by the end of today.