Sissypants

I’ve been diagnosed by a Real Doctor as a big fat wimp.  Sissypants.  Merriam Webster says here that a variant of sissypants is sissybritches.  I like that one.
The word she threw at me was “vasovagal.”  I googled it.  The Mayo Clinic defines it like this:
“Vasovagal syncope (vay-zo-VAY-gul SING-cuh-pee) is the most common cause of fainting. Vasovagal syncope occurs when your body overreacts to triggers, such as the sight of blood or extreme emotional distress.”
The sight of blood.  The doctor also said it could be a “Scary Movie.”  FOR THE RECORD, I have never fainted as a result of either of these.

So… that’s pretty great.  I think I’ll go eat something.

I’m really into cherries right now.  I got these guys on sale for $2.99/lb and I rinsed them with vinegar like you’re supposed to so that they don’t go bad.  Well, they went bad pretty fast, so it’s a good thing I can eat cherries at an AMAZING RATE.  Once they got suspicious-looking, I turned to frozen mango.  Yum.

Speaking of things on sale, I also scored on the buy-one-get-one deal on frozen pizzas, limit 8.  It’s a good thing they set limits on these things.  I did not eat 8 pizzas, I just bought them.  But we all know what buying pizza leads to.  Sin.

The bottom shelf is all pizza.  The top shelf is all ice and fruit and alcohol.  Square meals, people.

Slightly more square was the lunch I made for this week: $30 for all the ingredients for both of us.  SCORE.  Except it was probably a little more, as I had to buy the olives twice.  The green olives at Whole Foods?  They might LOOK green, but they taste black.

These are little green liars.  I chopped them all up, put them in the bowl with some red peppers, and then had to pick them all out.  I went back to the store for the cheap green ones that TASTE GREEN and go better with red peppers and chorizo and quinoa.  Crisis averted, and now I have weird greenblack olives for making some tapenade next weekend.  Bonus.

Also, I organized.  I got this idea off of The Holy Pinterest, and modified it a little so that it was more hidden.  I used a drill to make “pilot holes” for my screws (that’s a real thing).  My husband wandered in while I was eyeballing the situation and said something like “Do you want me to do that for you?”  The response he received from the crazy, power-tool-wielding pregnant lady on the bathroom floor was something like “BACK AWAY FROM ME I AM DRILLING HOLES HERE”

Desktop file basket + 3 screws +my hair crap =

Bam.