You wouldn’t know it by my lack of posts, or my ever-expanding waistline, but I think I might FINALLY be back to being 100% physically, and 69% (NICE!) mentally, which IS pretty much 100% for me.
Tag Archives | being an idiot
Normal’s Just a Word
I don’t want to say I feel like I’m back to normal, but I’m feeling about as normal as I’ve felt in a long time. Physically, of course, the S.S. Mental Normality sailed long ago and is presumed sunk at the bottom of the ocean with no survivors.
The Ocean I Piss In
To say I am driving Wifey nuts with worry about me is an understatement. That is not my intention, but that has been the result.
Beating Dead Horses
I know, I know, I’ve been beating dead horses, playing on repeat, stuck in a rut, flogging the bishop, and smacking my mackerel for two weeks now. OK, maybe not those last two but all the rest applies; I’ll explain.
Parking Lots & Winter Hikes
There are very few wintertime activities that bring me real, actual joy (drinking beer and masturbation don’t really count as wintertime activities, those are year-rounders). I’ve tried cross country skiing, and I’ve ridden my fat bike on snow-covered gravel many a time, but any attempt to ride “groomed” trails has always left me thinking I should have done something else.
Getting Out & Coming Down
I had been rolling along (going nowhere fast) with my Zwifting and eating OK enough until I came down with a slight case of body sludge (AKA a cold).
It’s long. Real long.
NOTE: Crap Video added below.
It’s long. Real long. Fucking January, man.
GoNotSoPro™ Time
Wifey and I are going out of the country for the first time ever in a couple of weeks; Jamaica if you must know. Not my first choice for my first time leaping fuck face Trump’s “wall” around the U.S., but it looks like it’s going to be a killer time celebrating our 20th anniversary (1.5 years later) with another couple we’re good friends who are celebrating their 25th. Sun, beach, warm water, rum, and boobs; that’s pretty much all I need to survive. As documented here, I’m a woodsy-type of guy, but there’s something to be said for being a beach sloth. And rum.
Talking About It, Sorry
I had an early morning appointment with my eye doctor on Thursday, and by the time I was done trying on new sets of contacts—none of which seemed to help my vision—I really didn’t feel like working out or riding the trainer. But I did, and I bit off way more than I should have.
It’s Over
Despite the “woe is me” title of this post, things are pretty darn, not badish.
When I say “it’s over,” I am of course referring to the holiday season. Finished; done; caput. Get the fuck out of here and don’t come back, until you force yourself upon us like a horned up, drunk, conservative Supreme Court judge a year from now!!