And then I choked on a Cadbury Mini Egg

Up until a few months ago, I had a pretty good thing going. It wasn't lucrative, and it was far from perfect, but I was working from home - which translated into a lot of sitting around in my underwear blogging and enjoying high spirited fun as often as possible (SIDEBAR I love the phrase "high spirited fun" because it basically says that you were stoned and/or drunk while having lots of fun - but you can say it with a fake British accent like Mary Poppins, which makes it sound like you did not mean that AT ALL and what exactly are you implying?)

So there I was writing and re-enacting Risky Business dance moves and enjoying some high spirited fun while the kids were in school (no mind-altering substances involved, what are you implying?) when the aforementioned high spirited fun came to a screeching halt with the arrival of a very cute - but definitely not fun at all - baby. I had to put pants on before the social worker even dropped him off.

His arrival also coincided with a writer's workshop I had signed up for. I wasn't going to just be blogging lightheartedly anymore. I was getting serious and Workshopping, and dammit I was going to get my book kicked in the ass. Instead, I staggered into the workshop on two hours of sleep clutching a laptop with a dead battery and a mug of cold coffee, carrying the baby who was doing all of the ass kicking I could handle. Within a month my writing slowed to a crawl - possibly as a result of complete and utter sleep deprivation, but probably because my spirit was being stifled by all the pants I was wearing.

And then I got a great job.
And hired a babysitter.
And became a working mother of three.

I have to be honest - this does not make for a productive writing environment. Plus, I was no longer having any fun. I was living in what was basically a black hole of fun. And so I felt as though I had nothing to write about. And then slowly I realized that it wasn't just my writing that was suffering. A whole part of myself was shriveling up with boredom and fatigue.

I mean, just last year? THIS WAS ME - wandering the Las Vegas Strip at 1am without any pants on -clearly not bored or fatigued:

the only thing missing from this good time is a bag of Mini Eggs

This photo was taken in the middle of a gall bladder attack for chrissakes. I had just cut off a hospital bracelet the day before. I needed to get back to that level of high spirited fun. So I started rooting around for stuff to do, making plans and getting excited about life again. It helped a lot that Easter is coming up, and this year the island has a pretty good supply of Cadbury Mini Eggs. Last year they had to be delivered to me via care packages, but this year I stocked up at Walmart early in the season and man, I have really perked up since securing my inventory in mid-February.

Bottom line? Nothing get me more excited about life than the arrival of Mini Eggs. I store them in my underwear drawer, and I begin eating them when I put on my underwear in the morning. I feel like a fucking superhero in my underoos when I am high on Mini Eggs. I stick a few in my purse for the mid-morning blood sugar lull, and I eat a couple on the drive home from work. I snack on them while I make dinner, and then, of course, I lie in bed and eat them at night.

Currently, I have an enormous zit on my chin, a chalky feeling on my teeth, and a minor headache - but no regrets. These chocolate babies with a sweet candy shell are saving my soul.

Any time I start to feel even vaguely angsty (or if I even start to feel anything at all) I pull open my underwear drawer and grab another fistful of eggs and all is right with the world - except that we should all be doing more stuff and having more fun and wearing way less clothing. And so, two weekends ago, I drove several hours away and enjoyed some high spirited fun far from my kids and my responsibilities. It was like a spark had been waiting inside of me to re-ignite, and all it needed was a little air. Which is why I didn't wear pants all weekend. To make sure my spark had puh-lenty of fresh air. Since returning home, I avoid pants whenever possible, have increased my Mini Egg consumption markedly, and been trying like hell to recapture the joie de vivre that was so effectively stomped out by a work schedule and a newborn entering my life simultaneously this past winter. (SIDE NOTE: removing your pants might be the quickest way to loosen up and get some fun back in your life. You should try it. Please check your local laws before leaving your home without pants on, because I think getting arrested for indecent exposure or public nudity - or just getting arrested at all - might take the joie right out of your vivre, if you catch my drift. Luckily, I chose to go pantsless in an area that prides itself on a "live and let live and skip the pants" mentality. I had no trouble with the law and my vivre was joieful.)

And then I choked on a Cadbury Mini Egg.

Listen, it was my fault. I was enthusiastically tossing and catching Mini Eggs (with my mouth, natch - I got skillz, yo) and one just went straight down my throat.

The irony of asphyxiating on a Mini Egg was not lost on me as my life flashed before my eyes. And then, that blessed candy shell enabled me to simply swallow the entire thing like a bloated vitamin.

I have a new lease on life, and you can too.

Long story short, ditch the kids, take off your pants, pour a big glass of milk, rip open a bag of Mini Eggs, and have yourself some high spirited fun this week before the stores run out of Mini Eggs and the kids are home for Easter break.

You'll thank me later.