...of a whacktastic little freak named Laura
Today near killed me, so I feel this irritating yet compelling urge to give you all a rundown. Honestly, I think this urge spawns from not having anyone to talk with about it at length, but that's what blogs are for, right? So here goes it...
First off, my day started out like junk because my night before went like junk. I received an email from a friend that needed a response and it was all over from there. My mind got all wired up with worrying that I had lost a friend due to misunderstanding and my hyperactive, overly talkative, romantically inclined, bold and beautiful self. Plus on top of over-thinking the whole thing, I had homework too. There's nothing quite like reading a chapter of textbook after crying your eyes out. You really must try it. It helps with realizing how fabulous it is to not cry right before reading. Another thing that happened midst the emailing, crying, reading, and thinking is how I got a writing bug and did slash and burn editing on a joint writing project I am working on. Boy, was that an exercise is masochism. Reading through the stories I'd written made me cry more and then I had written a couple of brazenly bold short stories which I felt might have caused this friend to be shied away so I slashed away at those (I saved them in a different document, but they are no longer part of the joint project). I just cannot stand the thought of alienating another person from my life. I DETEST BEING SPICY PICKLED STRAWBERRY ICE CREAM!!! (see Uniquely Amazing)
So anyways. This background sets the stage for my whacklicious day.
I laid down for two and a half hours. Mind you, I say laid down because if I had said slept, I would be lying. The entire nighttime nap was packed with thoughts, dreams, and dejectedness. Needless to say, my alarm clock was in harm's way when it rang out so cheerfully at 5:30 in the morning. And yes, you heard that right-- 5:30. A. M.
My kids' rooms look like tornadoes hit them, but then half the house does too. My first grader still doesn't have his shoes on when I have to leave to get to my school. Don't kids know how vital shoes are?!
I get to school with not enough time and so I am walking as fast as my stubby legs will carry me, but it just isn't good enough. (My university cares about our heart health so there are innumerable stairs to assist students with this goal of theirs.) I am ten minutes late to class. Not too big of a deal, excepting there are no chairs left for me to sit in. I default to the floor along the back wall (this happened on Monday as well), yet quickly realize I need to be researching something and so I have to head to the computer lab since I didn't have my laptop with me. This is too much for my insomniac self. I walk into the hall and a couple tears roll down my cheeks in the hope they can wash away feelings of inadequacy and ridiculousness. No such luck there.
But it certainly gets better. Much better.
The next class is Indoor Cycling AKA Spin Class. Let's just say ouch right now, and to help you visualize it all I will say this--this woman's legs were not made for standing up for like five minutes straight while riding on a bicycle. There was a massive ATP failure, to say the least.
I have a locker and towel service now. And the locker room is also where I happened to leave my purse which I had not missed one whit until after near-killing my legs to death on a bike. Did I tell you how the locker room is kitty corner from Spin in a large building? Just remember this for in a minute.
Back to that ATP failure. I believe my legs were worse than jello legs after a tough weight training session once I got off that bike. I had to focus all my energy just on walking and not allowing my legs to collapse. How does that equate with getting fit? I can't see it and that long hall down to the locker room might as well have been 100 miles.
Oh yeah. To top off the exercise class excitement, I had the pleasure of taking a horrifically cold shower (I couldn't figure out the hot water.) and forgetting to bring shoes to go with my slip on dress I brought for afterwards. This forced me to wear my athletic shoes with a dress! I don't know what your perspective is on the topic, but I believe that skirts and dresses and athletic shoes should never mix. EVER. I was breaking one of my hard and fast rules for being fabulous and, trust, it pained me severely.
My little niece and nephew are visiting for the week and so I pile all the children in my vehicle so we can pick up [C] from his bus stop and head out to the little monkey's dental appointment. But then guess what happens? [C] misses the bus. again. (It happened yesterday too).
Some good stuff that happened was when Mr. [C] Middleschooler received his Life Scout rank in the evening.; my children were all with me after school; I had a very engaging lecture today in the class I was late for; the Spin class instructor played Viva la vida by Coldplay which put a smile on my face and then it played again randomly on the radio as I was driving home. Torture me now. It was great.
And my friend still wants to be my friend.
Maybe I'm only a smidge whacktastic...maybe.
Today near killed me, so I feel this irritating yet compelling urge to give you all a rundown. Honestly, I think this urge spawns from not having anyone to talk with about it at length, but that's what blogs are for, right? So here goes it...
First off, my day started out like junk because my night before went like junk. I received an email from a friend that needed a response and it was all over from there. My mind got all wired up with worrying that I had lost a friend due to misunderstanding and my hyperactive, overly talkative, romantically inclined, bold and beautiful self. Plus on top of over-thinking the whole thing, I had homework too. There's nothing quite like reading a chapter of textbook after crying your eyes out. You really must try it. It helps with realizing how fabulous it is to not cry right before reading. Another thing that happened midst the emailing, crying, reading, and thinking is how I got a writing bug and did slash and burn editing on a joint writing project I am working on. Boy, was that an exercise is masochism. Reading through the stories I'd written made me cry more and then I had written a couple of brazenly bold short stories which I felt might have caused this friend to be shied away so I slashed away at those (I saved them in a different document, but they are no longer part of the joint project). I just cannot stand the thought of alienating another person from my life. I DETEST BEING SPICY PICKLED STRAWBERRY ICE CREAM!!! (see Uniquely Amazing)
So anyways. This background sets the stage for my whacklicious day.
I laid down for two and a half hours. Mind you, I say laid down because if I had said slept, I would be lying. The entire nighttime nap was packed with thoughts, dreams, and dejectedness. Needless to say, my alarm clock was in harm's way when it rang out so cheerfully at 5:30 in the morning. And yes, you heard that right-- 5:30. A. M.
My kids' rooms look like tornadoes hit them, but then half the house does too. My first grader still doesn't have his shoes on when I have to leave to get to my school. Don't kids know how vital shoes are?!
I get to school with not enough time and so I am walking as fast as my stubby legs will carry me, but it just isn't good enough. (My university cares about our heart health so there are innumerable stairs to assist students with this goal of theirs.) I am ten minutes late to class. Not too big of a deal, excepting there are no chairs left for me to sit in. I default to the floor along the back wall (this happened on Monday as well), yet quickly realize I need to be researching something and so I have to head to the computer lab since I didn't have my laptop with me. This is too much for my insomniac self. I walk into the hall and a couple tears roll down my cheeks in the hope they can wash away feelings of inadequacy and ridiculousness. No such luck there.
But it certainly gets better. Much better.
The next class is Indoor Cycling AKA Spin Class. Let's just say ouch right now, and to help you visualize it all I will say this--this woman's legs were not made for standing up for like five minutes straight while riding on a bicycle. There was a massive ATP failure, to say the least.
I have a locker and towel service now. And the locker room is also where I happened to leave my purse which I had not missed one whit until after near-killing my legs to death on a bike. Did I tell you how the locker room is kitty corner from Spin in a large building? Just remember this for in a minute.
Back to that ATP failure. I believe my legs were worse than jello legs after a tough weight training session once I got off that bike. I had to focus all my energy just on walking and not allowing my legs to collapse. How does that equate with getting fit? I can't see it and that long hall down to the locker room might as well have been 100 miles.
Oh yeah. To top off the exercise class excitement, I had the pleasure of taking a horrifically cold shower (I couldn't figure out the hot water.) and forgetting to bring shoes to go with my slip on dress I brought for afterwards. This forced me to wear my athletic shoes with a dress! I don't know what your perspective is on the topic, but I believe that skirts and dresses and athletic shoes should never mix. EVER. I was breaking one of my hard and fast rules for being fabulous and, trust, it pained me severely.
My little niece and nephew are visiting for the week and so I pile all the children in my vehicle so we can pick up [C] from his bus stop and head out to the little monkey's dental appointment. But then guess what happens? [C] misses the bus. again. (It happened yesterday too).
Some good stuff that happened was when Mr. [C] Middleschooler received his Life Scout rank in the evening.; my children were all with me after school; I had a very engaging lecture today in the class I was late for; the Spin class instructor played Viva la vida by Coldplay which put a smile on my face and then it played again randomly on the radio as I was driving home. Torture me now. It was great.
And my friend still wants to be my friend.
Maybe I'm only a smidge whacktastic...maybe.
