Apparently what you do after running seventeen miles is rest, not go house-search, house-bid, work, and then on a date. This morning I had three cups of coffee followed by a two hour nap, just an hour after waking. I have now made it from the bed to the couch. Whoo hoo! Look at me go! I’m hoping to take a shower and go for a walk, because my muscles are screaming for me to move around and stretch them out, but I weigh approximately nine hundred and thirty-seven pounds today. It’s quite difficult to lug that around, if you were wondering. I had plans all day that were cancelled, thank god. I don’t think I will do anything that makes sense today, and being completely nonsensical, while fun for me, isn’t so fun for the people around me. I have plans for early evening but they’re fast and loose and I could easily end up watching the Amazing Race in real time. Oooh.
But if I don’t do laundry, I’m going to lose my mind. It’s in such a state that I considered going to the laundromat, just so’s I could get it all done in one two-hour stop, but if I do it at home I’ll be able to lie on the floor in between loads. It’s not like I even hurt that badly. Don’t get me wrong. I hurt. But it’s not the ginger-stepping, wanna-cry kind of pain that I had three weeks ago. These are just really sore muscles. But my strength has gone south, and I’m too tired to chase it. Maybe it’ll come back when it’s ridden some Ferris wheels and eaten enough cotton candy to make it happy. I’m too tired to entertain it myself today.
Until then, I think it’s a good bet I’ll be right here, on the couch, a cat on my stomach, the sliding door open to the gorgeous day outside, birds singing, traffic rushing, glad to be freaking Not Moving.
(And thanks for your congrats, darlings. They mean the world to me.)
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