I dunno why but I’ve been a bit gloomy lately. This past weekend had so much promise; we were going to get off our well padded bottoms and “get stuff done.”
Friday night my friends and I went to a Mexican restaurant and I’m so proud of C and myself – we shared one basket of chips out of the many that were delivered. I have to say that another dieter at the table also ate very very few, and they are, in her very own words, Satan’s little helpers.
Saturday morning Neal came by, per appointment, and he wasn’t as obnoxious as usual, which is as they say a Good Thing.
Then the energy went out of the weekend for both of us. In our defense, Sunday was pretty dull around here.
Sunday we bestirred ourselves enough to go to my Mom and Dad’s house to check out their pickup truck and see if I can fit my fat ass into it. I can, so the plan is next weekend to borrow it “for real” and use it to get ‘stuff’ for the garden. We toyed with buying a second hand pick up truck but really it wouldn’t be worth the cost. Lunch at Chipotle, squabbled and came home.
Yesterday I did 60 good minutes at the gym with some fairly decent eye candy to keep me from being bored. As well, I staved off ennui by listening to the ‘Fitness Rocks’ podcast and watching a bit of Chuck. I’m up to 42 minutes non-stop, then I did three six minute stretches with less than a minute break. Watched ‘the guys’ playing basketball. I wish I could tell you why my eyes are so often drawn to ‘Pointy Haired Guy.’ He’s not my normal taste – very very very thin and tall is not a look I normally like. I could say it’s the grace with which he plays but that’s not it. Maybe it’s just curiosity; I’ve never seen a man quite that skinny who didn’t have a odd face and PHG’s got a very handsome, if not a bit long and thin (surprise surprise!), face. I wish I could bottle how I feel while I’m working out.
I ate really well Monday. Today not so much. There was cake in the breakroom with real butter cream icing and I had a huge slab of it. 😦 Rushed to the gym, and rushed in, and left my iPod headphones and water bottle in the car. As I sat there wondering if I dared run and get them, as the available treadmills were filling up fast, I decided ‘fcuk it’ and went home. Well, I tell a small lie, I actually was feeling a bit ill. See cake, above. 😦 😦
Made dinner tonight for C & me, chicken thighs sautéed with fried brussels sprouts (from what we had for Seder over a week ago; that fridge does a good job keeping vegetables) and asparagus. I also made some rhubarb compote for dessert.
So why’m I so flat? It’s not like we have a bad few days coming up – Thursday C is staying home to let the HVAC inspectors in while I take the car for a service, then we’re having lunch together and I’m getting my hair cut (which one? hee hee!). Maybe mah peelz ain’t working.
Maybe I’m discontented with myself and my self-indulgence. We are having a bit of a kerfuffle with the city over two different issue – the house next door still is not repaired from what turned out to be a fire, and there’s a divergence of views about the height of the power lines going to the house; I think they’re still low enough where a truck could snag them as trucks have in the past; our city councilman and head of public works say not. I guess what I could do is demand all parties’ home phone numbers so that when it happens next (and it will) I can ring them and make sure they’re as irritated as I will be.
Maybe it’s my great long to-do list at home and at work. Maybe it’s not eating right. Maybe it’s acting as if I’ve got no time to get to the to-do list having spent an hour and a half in front of the TV this evening.
Maybe it’s feeling that C is irritated with me and not knowing what to do about it. Maybe it’s knowing that, or thinking it, and not doing anything about it. I don’t know. I just feel existentially fed up.
I need a day off. But when I get one all I do is watch porn, or The Real Housewives of Wherever.
“I’m just tired and bored with myself” to quote some old Jersey boy. Languor is the mot du jour; here’s Silvio Nascimento doing languid far better than I ever could.
(How shall we get his energy up?)