Where am I supposed to get this hour?
Anyhow, I'm committed to the gym three times a week, for an hour. I can do this. I have it in my schedule, there was room once I wiggled things around. But, unless I manage to do that which I have never managed to do, and get up at 6 a.m. and run to the gym on the days it's not scheduled, than I am not going to be able to do this hour of cardio on tues and thursdays and saturdays.
It doesnt' take a rocket scientist to figure out that if you do manage to do an hour of cardio six times a week, you will lose a lot of weight. I probably need a professional life scheduler to help me fit that hour in though.
I mean, it's 9 p.m. and I'm just starting my writing. Do I want to be doing this? No, this was supposed be done this afternoon. I had time, I had the TIME to sit and write. So what happened? My furnace of a son woke up in cling fest mode radiating more heat than my gas fireplace, or alternately, a small sun, small, but very close, as in contact-close. Instead of my three to four pages goal for today, *which I just made up now, I really just wanted to sit and write til the boys woke up* I laid in my bed holding the miniature space heater, than, when he THOUGHT he was going to be awake, we went to the living room, where he discovered that he wasn't really ready for wakefulness, and I ended up holding him under our blankies on the couch.
Do I expect to sleep tonight? No. The furnace will overheat again, I'm sure. Probably around midnight or 2 a.m.
Speaking of 2 a.m. some nit-witted teenagerish-sounding girl called my house looking, I'm assuming, for her guy. Kept calling and calling til I picked up the phone. Hello, chick, don't call again. I'll do the parental "do you know what time it is" and then, to be annoying, because if anything, if you are calling me at 2 a.m. I sure as hell have the right to be annoying, "if you are looking for him at 2 a.m., you should probably just dump him." I would have said these things, and more, if I weren't so tired. Instead I said 'you have the wrong number.' Boy, that was harsh.