The days are long, but the years are short. Or so they say. 2013 was short. But so was today.

I really didn’t mean for that to rhyme.

I am so predictable. On the first day of every year, I come ripping out the gate. I resolve to be fit, organized, present, vegan. I commit to clean out my inbox, the pantry and my makeup drawer. I decide to focus on my family, my faith, this blog and my thighs. I decide that less is more, saying no is saying yes and that white space is my friend. Blah, blah. BLAH.

Then reality sets in. January is my busiest month at work. My family has had TWO stomach viruses thus far. I do laundry. All. The. Time. I ate sour patch peaches for dinner. Thighs.

I really dislike when people go on and on about how busy they are. Busy for me may be a walk in the park for someone else. Busy is working two jobs to put food on the table. Not cleaning out pantries and cleaning up puke. I am not complaining.

But I am tired. Januweary. I need a wife.

Preferably one with a Vitamix and a cure for the vomits.