83/90, trail mix

After a migraine-induced nap early this morning, I stomped my way downstairs to eat some trail mix. I got it at Walmart, and it is full of chips. This is not an exaggeration. there is at least an entire bag of both chocolate and white chocolate chips. Then a bag of peanut butter chips, golden raisins, peanuts, 5 cashews, a handful of almonds and some craisins.

I eat 1 almond + 1 craisin + 1 chocolate chip at a time. It didn't take long to realize that this meant I would be digging through to the bottom of the bag and coming up empty in no time.

It didn't take long to realize how much this is like life, either. You start out with some pretty great shit. Then, a little bit later, you're on your own in a house that's falling apart with a bag of shitty trail mix with your face all puckered up from eating the tart raisins and gagging on the salt-covered white chocolate chips.

I tried to pace myself, eating a few peanut butter chips and raisins, making the best of a bad situation. But then I thought better of it. Because you know what? Screw it. If I've learned anything in life so far, it's that when life hands you lemons, you give them to your roommate and watch her eat the rind. When life hands you shitty trail mix, you give it to your fiancé and buy yourself a bag of almonds and a bag of chocolate chips, sit alone in your room and eat until you want to throw up. Then you cry about not fitting into your clothes.

So I put the bag of trail mix away, feeling all kinds of worse about the day, went to class and found out that my teacher didn't really like my paper (not sure if this is true, but there were some pretty heavy marks on it... and she kept it to check the sources because I forgot to cite one), and decided to come home for another nap. This nap actually turned into a quesadilla-eating, facebook-chatting with Joe break from the day that was not the productive things I should have been doing, but at least it wasn't a nap.

Really, I guess that means if life hands you a bag of shitty trail mix, you should just make a quesadilla instead, because that's what will really make you feel better. But still give that nasty stuff to your fiancé, because he will eat it indiscriminately by the handful and not even notice how gross the white chocolate chips are.

I'm going to go mix up some cookie dough.

Hey, don't judge me! They're not for me. They're for Joe. He'll get here tomorrow night, late late as usual.