I have officially stopped trying to do a post in which I recap my trip to Jamaica. Since our return, I have been sick with the worst chest cold I’ve had in my life, AND I’m on the 2nd round of antibiotics in an attempt to heal my leg that I knocked/cut on a boat ladder in the ocean. In addition to that, Wifey picked up my chest cold, and we have had multiple ice storms that have left mid-Michigan ensconced in ice and frozen snow.
I wanted to do a travelogue about the trip Wifey, and I recently took to Jamaica, sort of like I did for our trip to Paradise, Michigan last summer. But the 7-day vacation was such a whirlwind of fun, rum, buns, and sun, that I now find myself playing mental catch up, trying to figure out what I did, what day I did it, and why I did it.
Tomorrow I am leaving the United States for the first time in my life. I’m happy about that and plan on spending the next seven days far away from any news concerning the pathetic excuse for a President we have in the White House. The less I know about what goes on here, the happier I’ll be.
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!!
After weeks months of putting myself through a mental ringer of worry and personal shame about the holiday season and seeing family, they are just about over with. Only New Years remains and other than the fact that I met my wife on New Year’s Eve many, many moons ago, that holiday means nothing to me (not that the other ones do). Out with the old and in with the new? More like out with one shit year, and in with another. I’m being negative, aren’t I? Sorry, it’s a gift. And a curse. Mostly a curse.
The week thus far has been swell for “doing stuff.” Sure, it was inside, but doing stuff nonetheless.
I got a pretty good week of fake riding in last week, coming in just under 100 miles with a shit ton of perceived climbing and vomit inducing efforts. I continue to be surprised at how much I’m enjoying these indoor efforts and how little desire I have to be outside riding in the slop. For now.
OK, I said I wouldn’t talk about riding indoors ’cause it’s not really riding, and there’s not too much to say about it. I’ve done a pretty good job with that, and there’s only been a few mentions of Zwifting on the Hammer in the Not So Stankment, but it appears that I am about to do it again. I’m sorry, but there’s more, trust me!
I can’t seem to find much to write about these days. Hell, I can barely find anything I want to do other than sleep, eat, and drink beer.
“Have you posted anything on the blog lately?”
“No, nothing to write about.”
“Sad.”
