I did NOT enjoy being home alone. I didn’t sleep well. I
wandered the house, unshowered and uninspired. I watched a LOT of tv. I ate a
whole box of Kraft Mac & Cheese (which is probably not Paleo, but I can’t
prove that). By Saturday night, I had to give myself a major pep talk. “You can’t
live like this! Pull yourself together! Is this how you’re going to act during
the next deployment?! You disgust me!”
I find that I respond well to verbal abuse self-motivation
in my stream of conscious conversations with myself.
So, I devised a plan of attack for Sunday. I WOULD be
productive. My day would start at 9:15 (which is early for me on a weekend) at
the gym. From there, I was not to sit on the couch until the laundry was done,
I had cooked enough Paleo-friendly food to get Z through the week while I was
traveling (super wife), and the house was clean.
Sunday rolled around and I was ON IT. An hour at the gym, four
Paleo meals cooked and in the fridge, clean laundry, clean house! BAM! Champion
of Productivity. AND I showered! Killed it.
So after all of that, I finally sat down on the couch to
relax. Then the worst thing happened. I decided I needed something sweet. A little treat. A small reward for being a successful human being on Sunday. We
had nothing sweet in the house (curse you, Paleo). So I go to the gas
station. And proceeded to get Skittles.
AND a Nerd Rope.
And a Sprite.
Sugar. Binge.
I was so ashamed that I didn’t tell Z until a few days later
that THAT’S why I was awake at 2:30am complaining that I didn’t feel good. Skittles.
Nerd Rope. Beer. Miserable. Oh, and the Sprite. Never again.
He has officially released me from Paleo. It’s for the best,
really.
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