Finding it

February 20, 2010

Maggie watched her sockmonkey-slippered feet trudge heavily up the stairs. So much fucking laundry to do. Constant chastisements to the boys about not costuming around so much every day seemed to fall on deaf ears. She wanted them to have fun, wanted them to express their creative sides…just in a way that didn’t involve 4 metric tons of wash being done so often. She wondered if her recent brainstorm of telling them that having to do so much laundry was a drain on the environment would sink in any better than her pointing out what work it was to keep them in clean clothes. Sighing wearily, Maggie popped the top on her second beer, and wandered over to her computer. She contemplated downing another half of an adderall but that would more than likely keep her from either sleeping or finishing the movie she had set out to watch an hour earlier. The hideous comedown from a whole dose being another factor in the ‘con’ category. Maggie was never one to just sit through a movie without stopping to google something about it or – while googling – getting distracted by 50 million other things that just had to be done that second. Things such as laundry she told herself she would do during the day then never got around to doing. You’d think such restlessness would make for a svelter figure, HA! These bouts of utter sloth and serious lack of focus were part of the reason why the house always looked like shit and her ass was slowly approaching it’s own gravitational pull. At least lately she had stopped eating like a pregnant trucker. Well…she decided not to count today’s venture into a pad thai and crab rangoon overindulgence fest. That almost reached vomitorium status. To be honest, the pad thai was less than stellar and really didn’t warrent the excess. She would have done better to have had some leftover Coq Au Vin and a few raw carrots. The adderall had helped this binge/stress/boredom eating for a while…almost to the point where she wasn’t eating enough. But dropping the dose down to avoid the bad aftereffects made it easier to cope with her disjointed brain, and took the edge off things that seemed overwhelming. But years of horrible eating habits were a demon she still battled daily. Wearied and feeling more than a little defeated, Maggie scrubbed her hands across her face (and probably caused 30 new pimples to spawn in the process), and dragged herself away from her desk, determined to watch that movie.

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