Pretty much every blog post I write could really be titled I don’t wanna. At least it seems that way today. It is 64 degrees at the end of November in Vermont and everything is feeling a bit stale to me. I’m excited to be checking out the new location of Bluebird Tavern this evening with the family. Or, I know that in an “I wanna” day I would be excited. So I say I am excited and then maybe I will feel it.

The luxury of my life is that if I don’t wanna I don’t have to.

I signed my 5 year old up for late care, and Steve will pick up both boys and we will meet for dinner. So I had a whole day to work stretched out ahead of me. First I would take a walk. But wait, no I won’t. I don’t wanna, and I have a friend who will meet me for coffee. So that is enough of a shred of excuse to get out of my walking clothes and into the shower. Once I have showered I cannot reasonably be expected to walk.

So I drop off the kids go for coffee, which stretches on deliciously. Then go buy some art. Remember the Crosby, Still, Nash, and Young song? Our House? Its a very very very fine house, two cats in the yard, life used to be so hard. But the part that always sticks with me is when he puts flowers in the vase that he bought today. Because no one who bought a vase today could really ever have problems. Right? You can’t be in trouble, suffering, financially downtrodden, homeless or what have you and go out and buy a vase. So that is what I am thinking about when I go to pick up the art.

I meet Sue at bluebird. Place looks great. There are new chef coats, and like 25 chefs. I didn’t know there were 25 chefs in Burlington, but there they are. Opening night. Crisp, attentive, excited. I am at the edges. See an old employee setting up the bar. I want to rub his hair. It feels so maternal. I feel old.

Time to go to the office. But you know what I want to do at the office? I wanna sit in a cozy chair and read. You know what I don’t have at the office? Right. So obviously what should I do? Go to work? NO. I go to Anjou and Little Pear (which for some reason I call petit Anjou in my head because I am wicked European.) I find a suitably ugly chair. I would show you a picture but it is still in my van. I am getting ahead of myself. It has a name: Orange Crush. I love that it has a name. I will not think about skin cells, or anything else. (Orange Crush is a previously enjoyed chair.) By thinking that I am thinking about skin cells. I will not think about skin cells any longer. Did you know that carpets weigh 8 lbs more when they are removed because of the weight of the skin cells? That fact always seemed off to me. All carpets? In any size room? In any case 8 lbs of skin cells is a lot and if Orange Crush has any it is not 8 lbs.

So I buy orange crush and these cups.

Oh come on. You didn’t expect me to get out of my chair to take the picture did you?

I was going to buy this cool swirly mirror topped table to go next to orange crush but the Pear lady dropped it. I would have expressed my disappointment but she was SO SORRY, that I could only advise her not to let it ruin her day. But it didn’t sound patronizing I think she appreciated it.

So them we got orange crush and plastic to the van. Where orange crush is jammed currently.

Then I came to the office, washed one cup and wrote this post.

I don’t really wanna read anything, market anything, learn anything, talk to anyone, rebrand anything, tweet about anything, Retweet or MT whatever the muck that is. I mean I really don’t wanna. I don;t want to add links to this post, and I don’t even want to include the cup picture, but it will be harder to edit the references to it out than to upload it. By just a teeny bit. Which is enough.

Does this count as work? I wanna it to.

If I tell you I am procrastinating on designing the UI for my procrastination app, does that help?

How much do I wish I hadn’t taught my mom how to book mark my blog?


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Anna Rosenblum Palmer is a freelance writer based in Denver, CO. She writes about sex, parenting, cat pee, bi-polar disorder and the NFL; all things inextricably intertwined with her mental health. In her free time she teaches her boys creative swear words, seeks the last missing puzzle piece and thinks deeply about how she is not exercising. Her writing can be found on Babble,, Great Moments in Parenting, Ravishly, Good Men Project, Sammiches and Psych Meds, Playpen, Crazy Good Parent, and YourTango. She also does a fair amount of navel gazing on her own blog at

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