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as expected, here is my screedy, day three walking rant
May 14, 2014

So the B and I have embarked on this walking program together, and I have to say that it is hanging over my head like a big black cloud. On day three, I can report that I'm averaging 3 miles per day, and that my hips hurt, my shins hurt, my back hurts, my feet hurt, my knees hurt, and my ankles hurt--not necessarily in that order.

B seems to be enjoying, it, though. Yesterday, he even braved a light rain to march me all over the neighborhood. I have to watch his paws in this damp weather, though--he gets "inter-digital dermatitis" if his paws don't get a chance to dry out thoroughly. Last night I cleaned them with witch-hazel pads and powdered them with his prescription powder. If he's going to "walk me", his feet have to be in good condition!

I don't know, though. It's just so damned hard to make myself do it. I hate it so much. I get so little time to myself, and basically this is a second job--a job of physical labor (walking) for pay (insurance premium discounts). A job that I didn't want to take, but couldn't afford not to take. I know that the disounts are supposed to be an incentive, but it is always going to feel like a jacking to me. I have yet to receive a decent explanation of how "do this and we'll charge you less" is in any way different from "if you don't do this, we'll charge you MORE".

I certainly don't want to hear yet another spiel about how beneficial it all is. Even if it did give me more energy (which I dispute--all it ever does is wear me out and make me feel FAMISHED), what good would more energy do me, if I have even less time?

It's a tedious, boring time-suck, is what it is--benefits or no benefits. And if I in any way enjoyed such things, I would probably already be doing them anyway.

Okay. Enough whiny, spoiled brat blather.


I wonder and worry about me lately. I had a panic this morning, because I was absolutely certain that I must have left my cell phone in the ladies room at work, went back and it wasn't there, reported it missing to lost and found, was absolutely FREAKED.

Yeah, it was still in my purse. No, I have no ideas as to what that was about, but it shook me bad. It wasn't upsetting that I misplaced it--that stuff happens. Not usually to me, but occasionally.

It was the fact that I was sure I had left it in the bathroom. I could remember leaving it there. I could picture it.

But that didn't actually happen.

Once I found it, I remembered that yes, it was falling out of my pocket, so I had set it on top of the TP dispenser. BUT...the rest of the story was that when I was done, I put it in my purse (so I wouldn't lose it, hahaha) and proceeded to my desk, where I put my purse in the drawer.

Why didn't that half of the memory come back when I needed it? Very disturbing.



Reading: "The Adventures of a Modest Man" (1900), by Robert W. Chambers

Listening: Third-Eye Blind, The Verve Pipe, Incubus, Candlebox, 3 Doors Down. Yes, still stuck in the 90s. or as I like to refer to that decade--"the 20% of my life that didn't suck".


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