The Weekend in Numbers

This weekend was my first weekend in a very long time of no's. Given the depressing fact that I am (and always have been) the Quintessential Yes Person - or at least I have been until lately, when recent events have caused my GiveaFuck to be irreversibly damaged - this is quite the feat.

By no's, I mean: no crazy work meetings to prepare for by Monday, no returning maternity (or just one-size-bigger) clothing (although there are still a few such returns to make, but I put them off on purpose), no studying, no training, no doctors, no appointments (well, one, but it was productive and desired), and no men to clean up after (Arnie and Kona don't count; besides, they get their poop scooped on trash day, right before the trash men come. No way am I leaving rancid dog and cat crap in my itty-bitty, 1.5-car garage for more than .5 day to bake itself to a heady, vomit-worthy funk in the 96+-degree, 80+-percent humidity.)

Yes, this was a Classic Weekend of Doing Whatever the Hell I Wanted. There were some things I couldn't do, like lift anything over 15 pounds but, let's be honest - I really didn't want to lift anything but a cocktail, a phone or a fork. And I did lift all 3, plenty of times. So, without further adieu, I give you The Weekend in Numbers.

1. Number of fabulous gatherings with completely supportive, fantastic and hilarious friends, both old and new: 4
2. Number of cocktails consumed: about 2.5 bottles of sake, 2 glasse sof red wine and a 12-pack. (Over the course of 4 days, though. And the sake bottles were tiny, I tell you - TINY!)
3. Number of bathing suits donned that proved I'm getting my waist back and have lost a few inches (although the fucking scale fails to cooperate - see #4): 3
4. Number of extra calories consumed because I still have about 2 more weeks before I can go back to training and have to stop using my former condition as an excuse: too embarrassing to note publicly
5. Number of times I considered going to see Mamma Mia again: about 57 (never actually went)
6. Haircuts I was supposed to get but didn't: 1
7. Number of hours I actually wore my new contacts(!!!!) without wanting to remove them from my eyes with a blunt instrument: 12 hours Friday, 10 hours Saturday, 7 hours Sunday
8. Number of miles walked in an attempt to both have fun and keep #4 from increasing my ass size any more than it already has: 6-8
9. Times contacted by exbo: 0
10. Times contacted by exbo's family: 1 (a very weird and apologetic drunk dial from the brother)
11. Number of poop or pee accidents Kona had in the house: 1 pee (but I just heard him bolt downstairs and skid across the wood floors, which he always forgets await him at the bottom of the carpeted stairs, and that never bodes well for my desire to keep my house free of inappropriately-placed animal waste)
12. Great books started: 1; finished: 1
13. Number of thoughtful comments left on my blogs: countless
14. Number of times I cried at heartwarming but not-neccesarily-tearworthy stories because I am still a raging mess of hormones: 3
15. Dog baths that should have been given but weren't: 1
16. Number of 2-year-old birthday parties at which I DID not cry, mope, or otherwise feel upset, regreftul, creeped out, or depressed: 1
17. Loads of overdue laundry folded: 7
18. New loads washed and dried: 2 (ok, I'm exaggarating a little because I haven't dried the second yet)
19. Hours of sleep: 8 Friday night, 9 Saturday night, and maybe more tonight if I'm lucky (note that I only got up twice most nights to pee and did not find any nasty messages from ex-bo during those excursions)
20. Number of cute guys ogled at waterpark where I laid around soaking up rays (through SPF 45, of course): at least 25
21. Number of cute guys I suspected might be ogling back: at least 25 (just let me have revel in the delusion that they weren't actually wondering "WTF is SHE doing in a swimsuit?" - also, important for me to note that this would NOT be because I wear a bikini. EVER.)
22. Number of phone calls with mom and dad: at least 15 (which must be the age I still act, since I feel the need to call my mom and dad at least 15 times in 3 days)
23. Other stuff I forget to list, which I'm sure is every bit as spectacular but I'm too mindboggled and happily tired to recall it: thousands

In other words, it was a great weekend. Might I even go so far as to suggest that I am, if not "back," successfully on my way???

Now it's time to be an "adult" again . . . fill out paperwork, cancel and arrange things, pack for my trip, figure out pet-sitting arrangments for the trip, switch classes, and get through 4 days of work and (hopefully) break in my new contacts completely. (By the way, high-elevation, 4-5-mile daily walks await me at Mom and Dad's to shove me gently back into a more Me-like exercise routine.)

Bring.

It.

ON.

(BTW...WTF with the spacing, blogger?)