Living in a low-fat world

The problems of people who live in the suburbs are alternately amusing and pathetic.

Yours truly is depressed because I live in the suburbs and don't earn a real income despite a tremendous workload and pissy clients. (Out of privacy concerns I will forego using their real names...which begin with the letters M, L and C.)

Now the mister has been diagnosed with gallstones after a late-night trip to the ER. There is nothing like seeing your spouse doubled over from abdominal pain to instill fear in the heart and make you agree to some immediate lifestyle changes.

Which are as follows:

Eating low-fat. Like low-fat everything. I don't need to eat this way but am doing so because I am the bomb wife and I don't want to be a widow.
Taking more walks. This doesn't go over well with Magnus but he has no say in the matter, effective immediately. Put your shoes on and walk your ass outside if you know what's good for you.
Letting go of stress. A work in progress, my friends. Who would I be if I didn't stress? What would happen to this poor blog? It is too awful to even consider.
Meditating. Getting over the idea that you look stupid doing it. Also a work in progress.

My cooking is at a standstill since the mister has some restrictions about what he can ingest now. And most of the cheese in the house will need to be disposed of, tout de suite.

Oh, the plight of the suburbs. Somebody start a fund to save us.