Or is this a really slow year for blog posts? My "year in my life" book is going to be about the size of a Wonder Woman comic book this year. Only about one tenth as interesting. If only I had an invisible plane. And a golden lasso. And some enormous knockers spilling out of a crazy-tight red white and blue super hero costume with red boots. THAT'd spice things up. (And probably also get me banned from Safeway for life. I wonder if Fresh and Easy would take me? Definitely not Sprouts.) Not only do I not feel like working out, but I also do not feel like bloggin' about how I'm not working out. Even right now as I type this -- I don't feel like typin' this! Bah! Humbug! Where's my plane? I'm heading to the island of Amazon women. What a minute -- that doesn't sound right. Maybe I can go to the island of Amazon.com? More my speed. Plus I can wear my jammies.
I'm back to all the excuses for not working out again. If I'm sick or busy with work, I can't work out. If I'm neither one of those, then I'm busy with projects around the house. I've always got an excuse. Right now, I'm feeling better, I'm not that busy with work (yeah!), but I'm going nuts catching up on stuff at home: eye appointment, annual well-woman exam, dental appointments, insulation for under the house and in the attic, termite treatments, constructing a bar to cover the pool equipment, cleaning out the garden shed...who has time to work out! Seriously. Who has time to work out?
I'ma have to locate a yoga place near my house or do something, to get myself motivated again, because I'm just not doing anything. I should work out now -- it's 2:30 am and I was wondering why I couldn't sleep. But then I noticed Connor Dog pacing the hallway and the distinctive odour of dog de poop. Crap. Yes, crap. Again. Does anyone else live this unrelentingly glamorous lifestyle? Or is it just me.
