I’m sitting here putting off going to work.

Let’s hope things are a lot calmer than they were yesterday.

I hate Mondays.

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I’ve been trying to add some varied aerobic activity into my workout. I can’t run or do elliptical machines because of my knees, and to be honest I don’t like a lack of forward momentum. So I’ve been looking for activities to add to my walking, and decided to add jump roping.

The first jump rope I got was too short. Way too short. It kept getting caught in my hair on the upswing (my hair is chin length, but too short to pull back). I could get about ten jumps in before the thing would tangle in my hair and go off course.

So I found a longer jump rope.

I tried this a couple times, however, for some unknown reason, the rope (actually thin, smooth plastic/rubber tube[think a whip]) kept twisting at the top (or bottom if you prefer) of the arc, and would after 15 to 20 jumps twist around itself twice–enough that it would go entirely off course.

Michael actually witnessed this, and saw the rope coiling as I jumped.

Yesterday I decided I’d do 25 jumps, untwist the rope, do 25 more jumps, and so on and so forth.

At about sixteen jumps I had a fair amount of momentum, at which point the rope comes down SMACK on my arm.

I’ve still got a six to eight-inch mark on my forearm where the damned thing hit me.

So no more jump rope. I’m thinking of jumping over the painted lines on the floor, except with my luck, I’ll probably trip over ’em.

Michael: You look broken.
Michelle: I am broken.
Michael: I don’t have a receipt. Are you recyclable?
Michelle: No, but I am compostable.
Michael: Hmmm…
Michelle: HEY!

I’ve felt off-kilter for the past couple days. Nothing I can specifically say that’s it, just a vague feeling of unease and anxiety.

Which really sucks.

When I was at the gym doing crunches, I had the following conversation with myself.

Me: eighteen, nineteen…
Me: Why am I doing this.
Me: …
Me: Really. Do I care how I look?
Me: twenty, twenty-one?
Me: No. I don’t care. So why am I doing these damned crunches?
Me: Um… twenty-two?
Me: If I’m walking thirty minutes a day isn’t that ENOUGH?
Me: Er… twenty-three?
Me: My stomach is never going to be flat, why am I bothering?
Me: twenty-four.
Me: I hate this. I hate crunches.
Me: (sigh)
Me: (stares at the ceiling)
Me: Because. That’s why. Because it’s good for you.
Me: But I don’t like doing crunches. They’re boring. They aren’t doing me any good. I feel bloated.
Me: one, two, three…

I hate Mondays.

Most Fridays we get take out from Flying Fish. Grandmom always tries to pay for dinner.

Grandmom: How much was dinner?
Michelle: A millions dollars.
Grandmom: Well, that sounds fair.

As I walked up the stairs to work this morning, the smell of fallen leaves was in the air. There were no leaves to crunch underfoot as I walked, because they clean the sidewalks continually here, but that brief whiff of fall brightened my morning.

Grandmom: You know, I didn’t put my hearing aid in today.
Michelle & Michael: WE KNOW!

Anne took some interesting quizzes, so I figured they’d make a good lunchtime first-day-back-after-vacation break.

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Main Entry: canoodle
Pronunciation: \k?-?nü-d?l\
Function: intransitive verb
Inflected Form(s): ca·noo·dled; ca·noo·dling Listen to the pronunciation of canoodling Listen to the pronunciation of canoodling \-?nü-dli?, -?nü-d?l-i?\
Etymology: perhaps from English dialect canoodle, noun, donkey, fool, foolish lover
Date: 1859

Ding!
Indistinct yelling.
Ding!
The elevator doors open.
“You motherfuck…”
I step out of the elevator.
The tipsy yelling guy gulps.
I duck my head so he can’t see I’m laughing at him.

I’m delighted to mention that according to my polls, not only do I have more than one dog among my viewers (see poll archives) I can also claim a sentient plant!

I’ve seen seven people already today sleeping–one sitting straight up at his computer with his hand on the mouse.

And it’s not even midterms!

Time is running out if you want to cash in on Baby Promotions!