the smell of my desperation has become a stench

Painting Rather Than Updating

In the last 10 days or so I have spent approximately 35 minutes in front of my computer, a notable and very much hurtful 4,000% decrease in the usual amount of time I spend catching up on the lives of strangers with online dumping grounds. It’s almost sad to get back online after several days away to realize that the world has continued without me, and the mania with which I’m trying to catch up on things is terribly depressing. I knew I had a problem with online consumption when I could detail over 20 people’s opinions about Tina Fabulous and Kirsten from “The Bachelor” after reading online message boards for over three hours a couple weeks ago. (For those who are interested, and that means probably two of you, I think Tina is totally fabulous.)

So I’m going to be stepping away from my computer again for the next several days as Jon and I finish up painting the new house and move in later this week. This means I will not only miss several days of online excitement, like when I missed Ben and Mena’s strategic maneuver to take over the world, or when Kottke proved the impossible and became an even bigger geek, or when the Allen-Armstrongs one-upped the Hamilton-Armstrongs and got that second dog who is not cute at all, but I will also most likely miss this week’s episode of “The Bachelor,” and this all makes me very, very sad. By the time I get back online Ben and Mena will probably be lifted up to heaven to receive their Celestial Glory alongside luminaries like John the Baptist and Ghandi.

What doesn’t make me sad, however, is the tiny 1926 Arts and Crafts style bungalow sitting up there in Salt Lake City just waiting for it’s corners and edges to be covered in dog piss. In the past week of painting I think Chuck has only marked his territory along the front lawn. He’s got weeks of pissing to look forward to.

I, however, have hours and hours of painting and emptying boxes to look forward to, which isn’t so bad considering that the other option is living under the same roof as my step-father ONE SINGLE MORE MINUTE. Before I leave his house today I’m using every single slice of bologna in the refrigerator to draw a gigantic round smiley face on his clean sheets.

So, I’ll see you in about a week when I’ll be posting from the new Blurbodoocery Headquarters, and when I’ll most likely be drunk on whiskey.

Heather B. Armstrong

Hi. I’m Heather B. Armstrong, and this used to be called mommy blogging. But then they started calling it Influencer Marketing: hashtag ad, hashtag sponsored, hashtag you know you want me to slap your product on my kid and exploit her for millions and millions of dollars. That’s how this shit works. Now? Well… sit back, buckle up, and enjoy the ride.

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