If the good Lord had intended us to walk, he wouldn't have invented roller-skates.

Since I have accumulated more versatile blogger awards, I thought I'd do like I did last time and dissect another bag. In this case, my second purse. This one--while I don't carry it around with me like I would my normal purse--is always nearby, whether it be under my desk at work, migrating around the house, or just chillin' in my car. 

Mostly I keep it with me because my current writing projects are in it, and I'm paranoid about leaving them anywhere in case I should suddenly be struck with a brilliant idea and find myself sans notebooks or pens. 


1.) That notebook contains book #3 in the pirate series; as well as the beginning of book #4; some notes on books 2, 3, and 4; notes on possible spin-offs; and a folder of more notes, and badly drawn maps. 


2.) Emergency food (mostly for work): some V8's and a cup o' soup. Needs replenishing...


3.) Pens and highlighters.


4.) Tea and coffee.


5.) Mini notebook, for ideas not directly related to any fiction projects.


6.) Random bits of books that I'm not really focusing on, but that are nonetheless still "in progress."


7.) One of my adult fiction projects--10 Ways To Tell If Your Cat Is About To Vomit.


8.) Notes for random kids book ideas.


9.) The Fairy Queen, which is almost finished. 


10.) The random crap floating around in the bottom of the bag: a Yu-Gi-Oh card I was using as a bookmark, my notary embosser, sticker from a stationery set, spare packet of Splenda, paperclip, hair ties, postal receipt for my taxes, Swedish fish, a rock (?), and a mini whoopee cushion (I have no idea). 


This past week went by really fast. I think this may be due to the fact that I was hopped up on lorazepam for most of it. Other Secretary bought office supplies, which means she restocked our office with giant jars of peanut butter-filled pretzels. 


They taunt me.

Even if I try to ignore them. That jar of pretzels gets a sick, sadistic pleasure in telekinetically destroying my willpower.

And I can't fight it. As hard I try to ignore the pretzels, that jar wears down my defenses.

And eventually I snap.

10 pretzels = 140 calories. Not horrendous. But can I stop at 10?

OF COURSE I CAN'T BLOODY WELL STOP AT 10.
Or 20. 
Or 30. 


You get the idea.

So once I give in to that first peanut butter-filled piece of heaven, the day is ruined. By the time I'm finished work at 5.00, I'm bloated and guilt-ridden, and irritable. 


In order to combat the Jar of Pretzels, I must take sedatives.


Sometimes this makes me feel like a sad, pathetic individual. 


Hope you're all having a good weekend, my honey-bunches! I'm off to go get drunk for friend's birthday. :D