I think there's a raccoon living in the comments section.
*shoos with a broom*
*gets scratched*
*falls into puddle of leaked anxiety and depression tears*
OH GOD! IT'S IN MY RACCOON WOUNDS!
Hi! I'm alive. Mostly. Kinda sorta. In the physical sense. With an extra 30 pounds.
No, I did not have a baby. Fuck that. I simply got fat. I've learned when you start a home bakery, you gain weight, and it's not from eating your own food - I cut sugar out of my diet years ago somehow. When you're on your feet all day and baking all day, the last thing you want to do it work out and try to make something to eat.
My downtime has been consisting of Dollar Menu, video games, and napping.
Cross stitching, too. That's another post.
So here's my plan. Expect 2 posts from me a week. No idea about what. Most likely stream-of-consciousness bullshit.... which are most of my posts to begin with, let's be honest here.
Nuggets of knowledge? You're funny. More like posts from me about being the poster child for not doing whatever I end up doing.
Nag me on Twitter, @DaraTheWriter.
Stalk me on Tumblr, darathewriter.tumblr.com.
Leave me alone on Facebook. Seriously. That's for people I know. Sorry not sorry.
