It was a challenging hump day.

I mean, I could say it was just another Wednesday but after plowing through dinner, an Italian ice, a pack of Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups, chips and salsa, and a beer it’s pretty clear I’m eating my feelings. ALL my feelings. So many feelings that my belly’s extended to an uncomfortable size and I’m regretting my decision not to day drink.

Okay, that sounds sorta bad but my logic is sound.

My Wednesday had been…difficult. No details necessary, I’m sure most of you who are homebound with teens have your own difficult days to deal with. I counted it a success that we’d made it to 4:00pm with everyone on the premises still breathing. Still, I wasn’t thrilled with life when I started dinner prep and was strongly leaning towards making a margarita. Then I realized I had an equally strong urge to run away for half an hour, and if I fell into a glass of tequila then I couldn’t drive, and if I couldn’t drive then it was possible I’d snap and somebody wouldn’t be breathing by end of day. Conundrum.

In the end I decided it probably wasn’t wise to mix tequila with newly sharpened Wüsthof knives. I’ve got a pink scar still healing from a slip while washing the chef’s knife and I was stone cold sober for that one so chopping and dicing seemed unwise while imbibing.

Then again, if I’d just had the damn margarita then maybe my stomach wouldn’t feel like it’s about to explode.

Like I said. Conundrum.