June 1, I was all gangbusters. But my gangbusters busted me. I stayed at work doing real work things until 3am. Things I coulda shoulda woulda been doing last week, last month, if I weren't blogging all the dang time. So I finish something that I had promised would be done by Tuesday, with quite a few other projects thrown in (and a wee bit of hulu watching, while I wait for updates to download, to install, for servers to reboot...good lord, the wasted minutes! this is my life I'm watching slide by on the 63%-complete-status-bar...hulu made it tolerable)...anyway, I finish just before 3am and walk my lonely self to the parking garage, looking over my shoulder every so often.
Then of course, because I promised him I would, I had to stop at the store on the way home and buy Leo something for his morning workout/bike ride...at 3:30AM!!! I am too nice, really...I mean, really, c'mon, that goes in the above-and-beyond category, don't you think?
So I'm shopping because once I'm in a store, the shopping/hunting gene thing must be fed by at least 30 minutes of browsing the warehouse-size aisles, dodging anyone I might make eye contact with, certain my car is being vandalized as I seek out quality onion bagels (there were none).
So I get home around 4am. Finally get to sleep around 4:30am. Don't ask me how this is possible, but my feet are the first ones on the floor, at 8:30, this morning. Leo is still asleep, and so is Q, as I make my coffee. I have to go wake up Q, who is all smiles and hugs and absolutely a little smitten kitten about seeing me again (since I didn't come home last night until after she was asleep), so that part was super nice.
But now it is June 2, I'm still at work (finally got here mid-morning), and I have yet to exercise even once this month (or read my $%^$*@ book!).
Well, there are about three hours of daylight left. Where there is light, there is hope. I am visualizing me walking around our neighborhood, at the very least, after dinner, or maybe before. And if you can dream it, you can do it, right?
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7 comments:
Don't look at is as discipline. Look at exercise as a stress-reliever. Consider it as a reward for all that you've been doing?
In another week, my doc says I can go back to the treadmill and I'm looking forward to it (as psychotic as that sounds). And believe me, I'm not very disciplined.
I'm sorry, but where were you possibly shopping at 3:30 in the morning?
Yes, do tell us what big box is open that late! And get some sleep!
Right.
I was at the grocery store at 2am this weekend (it's 24 hours). It's funny the things people purchase at that hour! Lots of just regular grocery shopping, surprisingly.
Yep, I crept on into Sprawl-Mart at 3:30am...good ol' Sprawl-Mart...the place that seems to be thriving in this economy...bought Leo his powdered Gatorade because I'm the best wife ever....
The discipline is always the hardest part.
Always.
I'm giving you Wife of the Year for 2 reasons:
--you actually stopped to pick up a grocery type item at 3:30am, AFTER WORKING ALL DAY AND HALF THE NIGHT, while your husband didn't. (you get bonus points because it was a Gatorade item and NOT LIFE SAVING DRUGS!)
--you let your sweet husband SLEEP while you were back up to go back to work. (I might have stabbed somebody's eyes out with a fork...hence the reason I didn't get Wife of the Year)
As I'm running to get my kids fed some lunch, and myself... because I'm DYING to get on the treadmill, but know for a fact that as soon as this salad is wolfed down, I'll be mowing the lawn 8 minutes. But walking the lawn back-and-forth for an hour totally counts as "exercise"....right? RIGHT?
Sometime I'll have to tell you how you are affecting my dreams now. DAMN YOU WOMAN! I'm dreaming about using big words. And wearing A SUIT!
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