I hate it when They are rightEven though I didn't feel well this morning, and let my daughter sleep in well beyond school starting time, I went to the gym.
Dammit, why must it be that exercising and eating slightly better (and slightly less) really does make me feel better? And if so, why do I know it will be so hard to sustain?
We did several hours of gardening yesterday. I hate gardening. I was diligent about the sunscreen...except for the back of my neck, which is now uncomfortably warm and unattractively red. But the yard does look better, and I feel good for having a) been outside; and b) done something that needed to be done. Plus I "cleaned my oven," an arduous task involving pushing the 'self-clean' button and then waiting to be sure the door is correctly locked and that the bad, bad cats can't get on the stovetop and fry their toesies.
I did reward myself with a nice glass of Knob Creek after my daughter went to bed...I'm not quite ready to take the vows of asceticism.