What a dip

Hello, Friday, you sexy beast. I could kiss you right on the mouth.

I’m glad this week is wrapping up because I feel out of sorts.

I missed my Body Sculpt and Zumba classes on Wednesday night because I had to work overtime and then go to the Sprint store to deal with my broken phone. It was almost 8 p.m. by the time I made it home.

I push-mowed our half-acre last night after work to help make up for it, but I still feel off.

I hate a change in my routine. I really do try to be a go-with-the-flow kind of gal, but straying from my norm really drives me crazy sometimes.

I have serious issues.

And then there’s the dirty little secret I’ve been harboring: chips and salsa.

The other writers from work and I go to our favorite Mexican restaurant for lunch when we need to, uh, “brainstorm.” Yeah, that’s it.

I’m ashamed to tell you how many times we needed to brainstorm this week.

I do well when ordering, usually getting my chicken fajitas, no tortillas.

But it’s the chips and salsa that will be my undoing.

I can’t not eat them.

They sit there, with their golden perfection and kiss of salt, winking at me.

Drool.

But I feel I may have overdone it this week. I predict disappointment come Monday on the scale.

And I know I’ll be thinking, “Well, duh! You ate 4 POUNDS OF CHIPS AND SALSA, DUMBASS!”

Ah well. Have a great weekend.

Check back Monday. I’ll be here, but it probably won’t be as early as usual. Let’s sleep in a little, shall we?