Milk & Guilt

It’s back.

Guilt, that is.

It was gone for awhile there, I’d achieved good balance.


It’s back.

It has to do with being incredibly busy at work (November 25 my life will become a bit more calm on that front!), the holidays around the corner, planning a wedding, and trying to find time to be a Mom in there, too.

While I had Monday off, every day since I’ve worked until at least 6:30 (my day normally ends about 5:30). When I work late, that means someone else picks Elle up from day care and there remains one hour of play time before bed – in which we have to squeeze a bath, dinner, books and a little love.
I have to work all weekend long with Monday and Tuesday as my days off.
I spent tonight getting my hair done, which felt like a silliness I ought to have cancelled, but it had been three months since highlight or trim and I have to do a lot of media interviews, etc., in the coming weeks. Would like to look as good as possible, I guess.

I’m hoping guilt looks good on me too, because until Nov. 25, I think it’s sticking around.


What’s also sticking around is a gross milk smell.
I’m so, so, so over milk.


Stopping at the store for a gallon of milk?

Hate it.

The room it takes up in my fridge?

Hate that too.

Tonight, my Mom had Elle and they texted to ask me to pick up milk on my way home. Which it’s kind of like – I get off the expressway, at the gas station which is two miles from home and here I am SOCLOSE to home and yet, I have to stop, get out, etc. I wish I could order milk from the Rally’s drive thru at the gas station.

Anyway, I do go in and get the milk (2 gallons for $5 – that’s a deal!). I put both gallons in the back – in Elle’s car seat – because that way I know I’ll remember to give my Mom one gallon and keep one for myself.

And my plan worked perfectly. My Mom got her gallon o milk and I had mine.

I also had in my backseat my makeup carrier (hello, old school Caboodle) because I did some TV segments today and wanted to ‘freshen up’ when I did them.

I set the milk on top of the makeup case.

I leave my parents house and drive the nine houses – no turns, no bends in the road, no potholes to speak of – to our house and pull in the driveway.

I open the rear driver-side door to grab Elle and the milk – but before I get to grabbing anything, that damn gallon o milk hopped right out of the car, flipped over and landed squarely on its head – right on the pour spout area.

In my head, I think I thought – in the instant before it hit the ground – that it would be like Rubbermaid and not break.

It wasn’t.

The pour spout area got rammed up into the jug itself, which forced the plastic to break, which really meant that milk began jetting onto the driveway.


F’ing milk.

I turn it right-side up and don’t even bother evaluating the situation. I just grabbed Elle and headed inside. Figured the milk would be ok for a minute.

The milk’s in my fridge now – I was forced to clean out my fridge so that I could have the jug stand up since I already had milk here. I’m so annoyed by milk right now. It’s a good thing it does a body good, because otherwise it’d be OUT of my house.

Anyway – it was a mess. A nice, hot mess. Or cold mess – cold like a tall glass of milk I suppose.

F’ing milk.