Title: God, I suck.
Music du jour: Crystal Method, Vegas
Random link o' the day:
Tales from the Trolls of
TCP Towers
Hi kids. I'm baaaack. Try to contain your excitement.
Well, last week was busy, as you can probably guess by my conspicuous absence. Believe it or not, I missed y'all. Really, I did. Last week was notable because I started my new gig at Lockheed Martin and Cynthia arrived on Saturday. So far LM is boring, but only because the Guard idiots are dragging their feet on transferring over my security clearance. Bastards. I can't do any real work until I'm cleared to work on the Unix systems here. So I've been twiddling my thumbs for a week. This is not the best way to start off, I don't think, but I get the impression they're used to it. I guess they have this security clearance problem quite a bit. Which wouldn't surprise me. This is a government contractor, after all.
So Cynthia arrived bright and early Saturday morning. I managed to make it to the bus station a good five minutes before her bus pulled in (I am good, I tell you), greeted her with my typical DOJ[1], and whisked her away for biscuits and gravy at Gunther Toody's. Such the romantic, I am. Since I'd had approximately 2.5 hours of sleep the night before, this sent me into a heavy food coma almost immediately, so we both napped until mid-afternoon, Cynthia having been on a bus all night and everything. We did straggle out eventually so I could show her my office and hang up my new Star Wars poster, but Cynthia started feeling ill about halfway to Boulder, so we came home almost immediately. She has been feverish and coughing ever since. The cough developed on the bus (I told her she was allergic to grimy bus stations) and worsened to the point where she could hardly breathe. It was bad... I felt really helpless. I know she felt like shit. I did my whole mothering bit by bringing her Bayer and orange juice and trying to pamper her through the whole thing. She's feeling better today, but it's been rough for her. Poor girl.
The other excitement from last week is I'm starting an exercise class at the Louisville Rec Center, although calling this an exercise class is about like calling an Ultra Enterprise 10000 a cute little computer. The class is run by an ex-Navy officer with 25 years as a SEAL. It's running followed by an hour and a half of calisthenics (or swimming on Fridays). I went to the class on Wednesday and wore myself out. I only did a tenth of what the instructor did, and maybe 75% of what most of the class did. This actually does not discourage me; it makes me think maybe I can get back in shape after all. Having gotten effectively LARTed at drill this time around for my weight problem, I find myself urgently needing to get to the gym, but I have zero motivation. That's the problem with being a stubborn bastard... you have to have your own reasons for doing everything. The fear of getting a stripe taken off apparently isn't enough. Oh well. I go to the class again tonight. Supposedly the instructor is going to give me an eating program, which will rule, since I have a tendency to eat either a) badly, at odd and irregular intervals, or b) not at all.
But I did have some yogurt this morning for breakfast. Go me.
[1] Dance of Joy. A term coined by Torgo/Greg on Auggie BBS once upon a long time
ago.
-- marcie.