Brooklyn 99

I've had a crazy week. Crazy busy, yes, but also crazy as in I'm trying really hard not to go crazy while I try to find a new home for my last horse that I don't have the time or the physical ability to do stuff with, and I hate the hanging participle or whatever it's called, really, but I don't have time to dig in to that fail, so feel free to learn me but please do it nicely because crazy lady is trying not to cry every night at the thought of "postponing" her dream of having a horse blah blah blah. Stupid broken foot. And holy macaroni, that sentence was a train-wreck.

Usually when I'm trying to "avoid" life, so-to-speak, I turn to fluffy, oftentimes smutty, books. I can't do smutty. Hubby can't have sex for a week, which means no hot smut for me because it's like foreplay and I end up jumping him and that wouldn't be fair. Not sure for whom it's not fair. Argh.

We came across Brooklyn 99 recently. I'm avoiding life with this wonderful TV show. It's like The Office except it's set at a police station, and it's funny. Even Hubby laughs at it. Anyway, I'm addicted. It's 10:30, the kids will be up in a few hours because they don't yet understand the concept of sleeping in on a weekend. Firstly, they'd have to understand the concept of a weekend. And the concept of sleeping in. Actually, they do understand the concept of sleeping in, but only if it means that I'm going to be late for work.

Right, back to on-topic; it's late and I can't stop watching B99. Well, I guess I can, since I'm not watching right now, but I want to be. I need to save some episodes for later, though, so I cut myself off.

Now if only I could cut myself off from chocolate. For more than a day, at least.