Mixed bag.
Mar. 30th, 2006 01:34 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
chibi_trillianHn. Now that it's finally warm, I'm determined: I'm going to start walking again. I don't particularly give a shit what I look like--what I give a shit about is that I can't sprint up the three flights of stairs to my apartment without getting winded and I probably can't leg-press 400 pounds anymore. I used to clock in five miles a day every day in high school--it's about damn time I worked at least a mile into my daily schedule. I don't even have the "I am le working, so I am le tired" excuse anymore. It's not really that far, I love walking, and frankly I could stand to be walking instead of driving when I'm running errands anyway. Saving gas is good, even if said errand takes four times as long because I hoofed it.
Damn, I miss having a large, active dog that needed five miles of walking a day to keep him from destroying the house. There's nothing like an exercise machine that whines and drools on you if you don't use it. And Sam played fetch. I'd like to see a treadmill do that. ^_^
On the jobhunting front: damn, it's depressing when your candle to St. Jude, the patron saint of lost causes, won't stay lit.
ETA: Looked into mirror while brushing hair today and saw my mother with dark hair, thinner glasses, and fewer wrinkles. D'oh.
I shouldn't wear my hair down anymore. I already bitch like my mother, packrat like my mother, worry like my mother, and sit down on couches like my mother (!). I don't need to be wearing my hair like her too.
Damn, I miss having a large, active dog that needed five miles of walking a day to keep him from destroying the house. There's nothing like an exercise machine that whines and drools on you if you don't use it. And Sam played fetch. I'd like to see a treadmill do that. ^_^
On the jobhunting front: damn, it's depressing when your candle to St. Jude, the patron saint of lost causes, won't stay lit.
ETA: Looked into mirror while brushing hair today and saw my mother with dark hair, thinner glasses, and fewer wrinkles. D'oh.
I shouldn't wear my hair down anymore. I already bitch like my mother, packrat like my mother, worry like my mother, and sit down on couches like my mother (!). I don't need to be wearing my hair like her too.
