It's never a good idea to eat seven or eight boxes of Hot Tamales. Even if they're the small, seemingly insignificant ones. Bad for your teeth, bad for the back of your throat. Just bad. Your entire mouth will be left burning for the remainder of the day. When you eat your turkey sandwich, Hot Tamales will be there. When you munch on your organic carrots, faint traces of HTs will appear in every bite.
This isn't my only bad behavior lately. I've been letting the laundry collect into long piles on the floor. Baskets and bags half-full sit in what would be wide-open walkways--now crowded by mess. Pajamas are on the bathroom floor, looking as if they've just been stepped out of despite the fact that they've been there since last week.
I've also been spending far too much time looking at puppy websites. Squealing over adorable combinations of breeds that were never meant to mix. (Probably). I'm wanting to buy another dog (or twelve), quit my job and go back to France.
No, I'm not well at all. Quite sick, actually.
