Meals for One

I am devoted to Target. I go at least three times a week. If I'm in a bad mood, stressed or just eh about something, going to Target soothes me. That may make me weird. I don't care.

So while shopping at Target in the frozen food section, I picked up some Lean Cuisines and Smart Ones for lunch and dinner. I noticed that the aisle is called the "Meals for One" aisle. I find that offensive. Yes, I am alone. Yes, I am buying this single serving meal for myself, but do I want to be reminded of my loneliness while perusing my normally calming aisles of Target? Negative.

Anyway I made some great purchases and look forward to my easy to prepare and consume meals. Fast forward to my crazyass day yesterday.

School was slightly overwhelming- lesson planning, being up to 12:30 the night before prepping and planning, etc. Then I had my first grad class of the semester at Bridgewater. I was looking forward to it as I love this professor but know it's probably going to be a lot of work, but I love taking classes and listening to lectures. So I get there and am settling into the class, and the professor hands out the syllabus.

Um, hold the phone. We're all teachers here getting our MAT (Masters in Teaching), no? We all have full time jobs, no? And in some instances families to tend to? How are we going to read 300+ pages a week, write 4 page papers weekly, a 15 page term paper and in addition to the SEVEN textbooks read an EIGHTH book and write a book review that could be published in a scholarly journal.

I wanted to jump out the window.

I foresee a nervous breakdown because of work alone this semester, I'm going to have to be committed to an institution if I take this course this fall. I decided I have to drop it. There's no effing way I can do it all. **STRESSSS**

I decide to stop by the gym, run a little bit, go tanning (ah! bad! I know....I needed a vitamin d boost....shame), watch the Pats play and talk to Josh for a little bit. I get home put my meal for one in the microwave and jumped in the shower quick. Get out, put on comfy sweats and go back downstairs for my dinner.

I'm walking through the dining room with my piping hot meal for one, ready to sit at my computer, catch up with my Google Reader and facebook then head to bed. I bump my arm on the doorway and pretty much wind up and pitch my meal for one into the hardwood floor of my living room.

What. The. Fuck.