Sunday, August 10, 2008

Goggles.

Not Google. Goggles.
My mood was still grey after last nights hideous journey home. But the weather forecast and a rabid clock alarm meant I was awake at 6am and raring to get going - I got out of bed at 6.30am hung up washing and went for my early morning walk. The sky was brilliant blue and the vapour trails were creating magical patterns in the sky. I really pushed myself round this morning - a combination of weird and wonderful aches and then the new found sense of exercise will cure all. I was steaming by the time I got home. Washed and respectable I continued with my chores - hoover, go shopping for some key ingredients (had a yearning for blackberry and apple crumble) and also to check out swimming goggles. My working week ahead is mental. So in an attempt to get myself through I have set myself the goal of going swimming after work on Monday. This gym, changing room thang is not the huge elephant I thought it was (no, that was/is just me) so if I could mitigate against short sightedness then a few lengths of the pool would be a good way of toning and extending my activities. So Sports Direct for swimming goggles! Fitness kit is also a temptation now! The darker the better to avoid unsightly sweat patches in rather embarrassing places! I am also toying with lopping off my hair too - easier to dry if shorter... am I that vain that I care about its current length? Not really - but hairdryers in gym - pants! My workout - 40mins - hair drying (if I chose to do so) probably 30mins!
I prepare 2 lasagnes and my crumble. Football season starts. I go for a lay down at 3 to listen. Promptly fall asleep and miss all but the music for Sports Report. Hey ho! TV - rubbish so iPlayer steps in.
Watch 'American Psycho' DVD - amid noisy neighbours party to the left and then fight with ear plugs to block out upstairs radio programme. I drift from feeling OK to hating everything. Sparky rings and texts. I ignore them all. He barely cares when he is on London why should it change when he is not. His worrying tone means I finally relent and send a short text message.
Am fine.
What does that mean exactly?

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