Or...just maybe...I'm not.
Didn't bike last night. Just couldn't. Something about this visiting lark just saps the strength out of you (says he who sits on his arse all day, as opposed to people who actually WORK for a living, then go visiting).
Crawled home, snarled and growled my way through a game of chess, crawled into bed, and that was all she wrote yesterday.
This morning I was going to go and do some gym work but had a bit of a deadline crisis when reminding myself that I have a couple of harsh ones coming up, so started work early.
"You walking?" said Ma, by text. I was halfway through typing "Nah," when I realised she wasn't actually asking if I was walking. She was asking, if I happened to be walking, for a meet-up to talk things through. I walked. We met, we walked together round the local Thomastown park, getting things a bit more straight in our brains. I went to Tescos, feeling the need for chocolate biscuits.
Didn't buy any, but roaming the aisles every now and again with the freedom to buy them if I want them seems to help. It's like when you're on a very high cliff, and you dare yourself to go right to the edge and look over - most of the times you try that, you'll end up scaring yourself and stepping back. Only occasionally does someone do that and think "Yeah, that'd be a good idea!"
Came back, sat on my arse for the rest of the day till 6.15, when we went to visit dad. he, at the moment, is taking dieting to extreme levels, so we sat with him for a while, trying to get him to Eat Stuff.
Sigh.
Which is how I end up at 10 o'clock, wittering to you lot and getting on a bike, before going back to deadline-work. It's days like this that make me reeeeeeallly miss the fuck out of caffeine.
Oh - blood was 6.2 this morning by the way. Normal vampiric service has been restored. Also, two Zenical pills in the system, no cataclysmic effects as of yet...said he...rather gingerly.
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