I'm pulling a Britney Spears

One of these weekends I am going to take a day to myself. Any weekend now. I'm just going to eat, sleep and clean. Screw cleaning. I'm going to eat, sleep and watch movies all day. I don't know where the day goes. It's 9:45 and I'm finally winding down. How does that happen? Let me tell you.
Had a shitty sleep last night (even though I was really happy that Michael had dropped by) because I had two glasses of pop that have caffeine. I do this often, and continue to be surprised by it. Cupcake -ow! Cupcake - ow!
Was tired at work and was accused of being an ageist. A coworker sent me a link of midget UFC fighting.
Randomly decided to get all my hair cutoff while on the seabus home. Well, not literally. I mean, I made the decision to have my hair cut while bobbing about in the ocean, but the actual cutting took place a bit later.
Newly shorn (and I mean shorn: there was a young boy getting his hair cut and my hair is now shorter than his) I looked at my watch and realized I could still make my 6:30 running clinic. Michael barely even did a double take. He has been through this before and has given up trying to encourage me to grow my hair. I like short hair. I don't care what men like. I don't care what's feminine and attractive. If I was concerned about that I would shave my legs more often, where skirts and high heels and... whatever else it is that girls do.
Okay. So then after the clinic we hung around because there's a big sale going on and I got a pair of $250 shoes for $119. They're effing sweet. Michael was jealous. It was like it was meant to be. I saw them, tried them on and was like, "This is heaven" and it was the only pair and they fit perfectly and other female runners were looking at me with a twinge of envy because I got a screaming deal. Oh, if I was a girl? I wouldn't be doing planks and pushups on the sidewalks at 7:30 at night, either.
Then Michael came over and I said, "I'm making dinner, want some?" so he stayed for dinner which was really nice and unexpected. Then phone calls to return, paperwork to wade through (why do I have paperwork? I'm not a girl, and I'm certainly not a corporation: where does all this shit come from?).
I dunno. I guess this is life. I wish it would slow down for just a moment. I wish people would stop going through my garbage and posting naked pics of me on the internet. Kidding. Unless people are doing that.
Right. Running my hands through my hair a lot and remembering that I now have none.
I'm sleeping until 11am on Saturday. If Michael attempts to get up before that I will knock him unconscious with my oscillating fan.