The result of a blissful lazy Sunday is lying awake at 1:00 AM Monday morning watching the glowing red numbers on your alarm clock count up to the time when you have to pry yourself out of bed and enter another work week. No matter how much I do, how much I expend myself, I can never seem to fall asleep before 2:00 AM on a Sunday. Even as I sit here in my home office, listening to the trumpeting of TH's snoring, I am wide awake. I could run a few miles, I could finish cleaning the basement, I could watch a movie - but I know in 6 hours I will awaken to the annoying bleep of my alarm clock and be totally exhausted.
The experts tell you to get 8 hours of sleep per night. I'd like to know which doctor decided this fun fact and ask him if he gets all his 8 winks. I am the most compulsive, scheduled woman I know, yet I can never manage to schedule my sleep. I know someone who drops off to sleep every night a 10 PM on the dot. He gets up at varied time through-out the week, but always manages to catch his Z's, unmediated and on schedule
Warning: Subject change
Like any red-blooded woman, I love me some beauty products. Lotions, creams, soaps - anything that smells yummy or promises unattainable results. I always emerge from the shower, steamy and dewy, to slather on any number of creams that make me smell like a stripper ready to do a 12 hour shift. I'm also a fan of body scrubs. No one ever wants to take a shower after me. There is always the remenance of salts, sugars or some other concoction I've found promising to turn my skin into silk.
Not wanting to let Martha Stewart have all the fun, I Googled up some recipes to make my own scrubs. I toyed with a honey oatmeal which left a lovely film on the floor of the shower, refusing to come off until I blasted it with some cleaning product. Tonight, I tried a homemade coffee cinnamon scrub. The smell was intoxicating and the delicious scratch of the coffee against my skin was better than any massage. I vigorously rubbed my legs, stomach, arms and shoulders, loving the tingling feeling of the cinnamon oil. The steam from the shower turned everything into a hot mess. It was wonderful.
I stepped out of the shower leaving only a small amount of grounds around the drain. Considering the disaster I made during my scrub orgy, I feel I did enough cleaning up. I spend considerable time slathering on some rich and creamy vanilla bean lotion, making sure I hit every inch of my body. Then, I ruined this romantic, sexy-feeling activity by donning a pair of faded flannel pj pants and an old cotton football jersey of TH's. My favorite lounging outfit. I felt soothed and relaxed. It was 10:30 PM and I figured I'd be sufficiently sleepy and ready for bed by 11 PM.
At 11:15 PM, I was so awake I felt like my eyelid would flip up like those scenes in a cartoon. There was a steady humming noise in my head and I was twitching and jumping as I tried to watch a movie on TV.
I am a stupid, silly girl. Whenever you get a salt rub at a professional salon, they always tell you to drink plenty of water because the scrubbing moves all the toxicants around in you system and you need to flush them out. My vigorous rubbing pushed caffeine from the coffee into my system. It was like I'd drunk 5-6 cups of coffee.
2 AM. I'm still awake. Wide awake.
The experts tell you to get 8 hours of sleep per night. I'd like to know which doctor decided this fun fact and ask him if he gets all his 8 winks. I am the most compulsive, scheduled woman I know, yet I can never manage to schedule my sleep. I know someone who drops off to sleep every night a 10 PM on the dot. He gets up at varied time through-out the week, but always manages to catch his Z's, unmediated and on schedule
Warning: Subject change
Like any red-blooded woman, I love me some beauty products. Lotions, creams, soaps - anything that smells yummy or promises unattainable results. I always emerge from the shower, steamy and dewy, to slather on any number of creams that make me smell like a stripper ready to do a 12 hour shift. I'm also a fan of body scrubs. No one ever wants to take a shower after me. There is always the remenance of salts, sugars or some other concoction I've found promising to turn my skin into silk.
Not wanting to let Martha Stewart have all the fun, I Googled up some recipes to make my own scrubs. I toyed with a honey oatmeal which left a lovely film on the floor of the shower, refusing to come off until I blasted it with some cleaning product. Tonight, I tried a homemade coffee cinnamon scrub. The smell was intoxicating and the delicious scratch of the coffee against my skin was better than any massage. I vigorously rubbed my legs, stomach, arms and shoulders, loving the tingling feeling of the cinnamon oil. The steam from the shower turned everything into a hot mess. It was wonderful.
I stepped out of the shower leaving only a small amount of grounds around the drain. Considering the disaster I made during my scrub orgy, I feel I did enough cleaning up. I spend considerable time slathering on some rich and creamy vanilla bean lotion, making sure I hit every inch of my body. Then, I ruined this romantic, sexy-feeling activity by donning a pair of faded flannel pj pants and an old cotton football jersey of TH's. My favorite lounging outfit. I felt soothed and relaxed. It was 10:30 PM and I figured I'd be sufficiently sleepy and ready for bed by 11 PM.
At 11:15 PM, I was so awake I felt like my eyelid would flip up like those scenes in a cartoon. There was a steady humming noise in my head and I was twitching and jumping as I tried to watch a movie on TV.
I am a stupid, silly girl. Whenever you get a salt rub at a professional salon, they always tell you to drink plenty of water because the scrubbing moves all the toxicants around in you system and you need to flush them out. My vigorous rubbing pushed caffeine from the coffee into my system. It was like I'd drunk 5-6 cups of coffee.
2 AM. I'm still awake. Wide awake.
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