That's a rhetorical question by the way. I sometimes think I've lost it. Other times I think I'm losing it and occasionally I think it's there, fully intact and functioning.
Not this morning though. Either I'm losing what little mind I have left, or I have a poltergeist. Of the two, I'm not sure which I would prefer.
See, what happened is, I came downstairs this morning. I was remiss last night and didn't set up the coffee or my MIL's pills or any of the normal stuff I do to save time when I'm getting ready to leave for work. It's not a big deal - just five minutes or so. So, I came downstairs. I put water in the coffeemaker, got the filter into the basket and got the coffee from the freezer. All's well to this point.
Somewhere along the way I took the top off the coffee canister and put it down. Scooped coffee into the filter and went to put the top back on the coffee canister... It's nowhere to be found. I mean nowhere. It's as if it evaporated or something.
I know I got it out of the freezer. I didn't open the fridge or the pantry. I carried it to the counter. I opened it and, because of habit and familiarity, I'm not paying attention just now. I had to have set it down. I scooped the coffee and... The damned lid is gone.
Now wait, says I to myself. It was just here. I look. Nothing. I feel (we have black granite counters and the top is black). Not here. I squat down to get an eye-level view even though I know that I'm not that blind. Not there. Oh, well says I to myself. It'll turn up. I open the cabinet where we keep the cups - my cup isn't there. Huh. I wander out to the car and there it is. A simple case of forgetfulness last night that was easily remedied this morning. No muss, no fuss, no bother.
Except I still cannot find the top to the coffee canister. I have spent the last twenty minutes looking for the ruddy thing, and it isn't here. It was. I swear it was - I peeled it off the container, set it down and... poof. Gone.
Checked the freezer in case I was daydreaming and left it there. Nope. I've since checked three times.
Checked the car in case I was stupid and took it out and left it when I got my coffee cup (checked that, the garbage barrel and recycle barrel three times along the way). Nope, nothing. Not in the laundry room through which I had to pass to get to the garage, and not on the dryer where we sometimes leave things on our way in or out.
More head scratching.
I mean, I know I had it. I know it was here. I haven't forgotten the object - just where I put it down. And there aren't that many places. Didn't open the fridge. Didn't open the cabinets except the one in which we keep the cups. Didn't open the pantry. It's a process of elimination. Or it should be.
Checked the counter. Checked the garbage in case I got weird. Checked the cabinet, checked the counter. Now I'm starting to worry. Am I losing my mind? Checked the floor. Checked the island. Checked the freezer. Checked the drawer where we keep the coffee filters. Checked the drawer where we keep the silverware.
This kind of stuff is not the kind of stuff I do. I do other stuff, like forget to do things or go places and have to go back. But I do not misplace simple objects. And this scenario - me poking around in the places I've been or think I might have been this morning is both a waste of time and stupid! It's just the plastic lid to a plastic coffee canister but it's bugging me. As you might have noticed.
Checked the pantry. Checked... You get the picture, I'm sure.
For the moment I have a solution. I'll take the plastic lid off the other can of coffee that's sitting in the cabinet, unopened and vacuum sealed, and use that lid to close the open canister in the freezer. Until I track this one down.
We've all been here and done this. Wallets, car keys, credit cards, just about anything and we all know this is going to bug the crap out of me until it turns up. That's what these things do. Poke and prod and nudge and cause massive amounts of head scratching. Then, if and when we find it, we say, Soo that's where I left it! and it all becomes perfectly clear.
Right now, though, I'm in the 'this is bugging me to death' stage, so I'm going to send this off and get back to hunting.
Have a loss free day!
Best~
Philippa
Follow me on Twitter: https://twitter.com/PhilippaStories
Showing posts with label Irritant. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Irritant. Show all posts
Wednesday, September 9, 2015
Saturday, June 27, 2015
I Hate That Saying...
I don't know if it was original to the 1960's and '70s, or if it predates that, but the saying 'This is the first day of the rest of your life' makes me want to commit an act of violence. It's so... Argh!
However, it is because this is the day I start remaking myself. Not in the superficial hair dye and highlights manner, or the polish and puff manner, I'm just not like that. Instead, it's in the rebuilding and realignment manner.
When I was a kid, I was skinny. Rail thin with ribs from here to there, then I hit puberty and wham the fat found me. When I was fourteen I was wearing size fourteen clothing, and it wasn't age-adjusted. It was what fit. My friends were all wearing, or all seemed to be wearing, size six or seven or something that wouldn't fit one of my thighs.
In my late teens I finally got it under control. I went from 160 pounds to 135 pounds. I felt good, I looked good and I could finally shop for 'cute' clothes in size 10/11.
Then I got married and, as marriage often does, it brought weight. It's like a wedding gift from the Fates or something.
Now, thirty-five years on and I've decided to struggle with my weight, again.
Several years ago I weighed 217 pounds. That was my all time high. Even when I was pregnant the most I ever weighed in at was 204 pounds. Then, I lost the baby-fat, got down to 160 again and then ballooned. Packing on fifty-seven pounds because I ate when I was bored. When I was tired. When I was angry or depressed or just because it was there.
Try and lift that, it's shocking to think that's what I was hauling around everywhere I went.
Over a period of a couple of years, between 2010 and 2012, I took off thirty-seven of those pounds. I got down to a relatively trim 180 and I was proud of myself. But I was also depressed. I mean, after all, there are football players - professional, adult football players - who weigh less than I do! It's depressing and it's irritating.
Last night I finally worked up the courage to weigh myself for the first time in months.
Damn. I knew I had gained weight because I haven't been 'careful'. But I didn't think it was that much.
After all, I still fit into most of the 'skinny' clothes - those garments that are numbers that don't include an 'X' in the size - that I bought after my last weight-loss round.
It was that much, so now I'm determined. I want to get rid of this... stuff because I want to be active for a lot longer than I will be if I'm packing a giant sack of kitty litter with me everywhere I go.
Forty pounds, that's my goal. Eighteen months, that's my timeline. So, let's see here.
40 pounds x 3500 calories = 140,000 calories.
30 days x 18 months = 540 days.
140,000/540 = 259.26 calories per day.
2,000 calories is the standard for a normal adult human being's daily caloric needs.
1,700 calories should be my daily goal.
That's do-able. 1,700 calories per day, or less, if I can manage it. And I should be able to, because I have before.
It was boring. It was dull. It was a gigantic pain in the butt, but for months I tracked and estimated the cost of everything that went between my lips. I got pretty good at it, too. It will be a nuisance again, but it won't be hard. And even though I'm starting from a place higher than my recent low, it's still substantially less than where I began last time.
So, despite the fact that I want to strangle the person who started that sing-song happy crap of 'This is the first day of the rest of your life', it is. It will be, and I'm going to keep track and do my best to do my best to get down to something like a reasonable weight. Forty pounds. It sounds like a lot, and it is, but I can do it.
Now, I'm off to get breakfast - packaged oatmeal = 160 calories. 1 tbsp of flax seed = 30 calories. 1 banana, medium = 105 calories. Breakfast = 295 calories. Balance remaining = 1,405.
Have a lovely day!
Best~
Philippa
Follow me on Twitter: https://twitter.com/PhilippaStories
However, it is because this is the day I start remaking myself. Not in the superficial hair dye and highlights manner, or the polish and puff manner, I'm just not like that. Instead, it's in the rebuilding and realignment manner.
When I was a kid, I was skinny. Rail thin with ribs from here to there, then I hit puberty and wham the fat found me. When I was fourteen I was wearing size fourteen clothing, and it wasn't age-adjusted. It was what fit. My friends were all wearing, or all seemed to be wearing, size six or seven or something that wouldn't fit one of my thighs.
In my late teens I finally got it under control. I went from 160 pounds to 135 pounds. I felt good, I looked good and I could finally shop for 'cute' clothes in size 10/11.
Then I got married and, as marriage often does, it brought weight. It's like a wedding gift from the Fates or something.
Now, thirty-five years on and I've decided to struggle with my weight, again.
Several years ago I weighed 217 pounds. That was my all time high. Even when I was pregnant the most I ever weighed in at was 204 pounds. Then, I lost the baby-fat, got down to 160 again and then ballooned. Packing on fifty-seven pounds because I ate when I was bored. When I was tired. When I was angry or depressed or just because it was there.
Try and lift that, it's shocking to think that's what I was hauling around everywhere I went.
Over a period of a couple of years, between 2010 and 2012, I took off thirty-seven of those pounds. I got down to a relatively trim 180 and I was proud of myself. But I was also depressed. I mean, after all, there are football players - professional, adult football players - who weigh less than I do! It's depressing and it's irritating.
Last night I finally worked up the courage to weigh myself for the first time in months.
Damn. I knew I had gained weight because I haven't been 'careful'. But I didn't think it was that much.
After all, I still fit into most of the 'skinny' clothes - those garments that are numbers that don't include an 'X' in the size - that I bought after my last weight-loss round.
It was that much, so now I'm determined. I want to get rid of this... stuff because I want to be active for a lot longer than I will be if I'm packing a giant sack of kitty litter with me everywhere I go.
Forty pounds, that's my goal. Eighteen months, that's my timeline. So, let's see here.
40 pounds x 3500 calories = 140,000 calories.
30 days x 18 months = 540 days.
140,000/540 = 259.26 calories per day.
2,000 calories is the standard for a normal adult human being's daily caloric needs.
1,700 calories should be my daily goal.
That's do-able. 1,700 calories per day, or less, if I can manage it. And I should be able to, because I have before.
It was boring. It was dull. It was a gigantic pain in the butt, but for months I tracked and estimated the cost of everything that went between my lips. I got pretty good at it, too. It will be a nuisance again, but it won't be hard. And even though I'm starting from a place higher than my recent low, it's still substantially less than where I began last time.
So, despite the fact that I want to strangle the person who started that sing-song happy crap of 'This is the first day of the rest of your life', it is. It will be, and I'm going to keep track and do my best to do my best to get down to something like a reasonable weight. Forty pounds. It sounds like a lot, and it is, but I can do it.
Now, I'm off to get breakfast - packaged oatmeal = 160 calories. 1 tbsp of flax seed = 30 calories. 1 banana, medium = 105 calories. Breakfast = 295 calories. Balance remaining = 1,405.
Have a lovely day!
Best~
Philippa
Follow me on Twitter: https://twitter.com/PhilippaStories
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