I’m in the midst of a completely unproductive day. For a few weeks now, I’ve been complaining that I literally have nothing to do at work. And this isn’t a “I have nothing that I want to do,” scenario; I literally have had nothing on my to-do list. I took to reading various University newsletters that were printed in July. Fun and relevant.
But now, lo and behold, I have stuff to do. And here I am, slacking and writing a blog. Why, you ask? Just because I generally suck? I hope not. Have you ever had a morning that starts off so wrong that the wrongness prevents you from salvaging the rest of the day because you simply cannot get past all that wrongness? I’m living this right now. This is the reality of my Thursday.
What could be so terrible you ask?
This morning started like every other weekday morning. I dragged my ass out of bed shortly after 7am into the bathroom where I immediately bent over the tub to turn on the shower. But wait! Sans glasses or contacts, my blurred vision sensed something is not right. A dark spot on floor the tub. Hmmm… what could that be?
I hoped… no… I PRAYED it was a cap to the shampoo or even a large hairball. I put on my glasses. Now that I could accurately identify my surroundings, I peered into the tub.
Its inch or so long fat brown body wasn’t moving, but its antenna was, so it was clearly still alive. I backed away from the tub. I paced around the house several times unsure of what to do. You can’t simply smash a monstrosity like that with a shoe. I called MM. I told him what I just told you. He was not helpful.
Finally, a brainstorm. I grabbed the five inch thick dictionary from the bookshelf, headed back into the bathroom, reached out and positioned it over the bug, and dropped it. I think it is dead. It seemed to spring to life as the book’s shadow closed in, but the book was too big, and the bug wasn’t moving fast enough.
I left. I didn't investigate; I didn't clean it up. I took my clothes, a towel, my shampoo, the hair dryer, and my mascara, and I hightailed it out of there. I took a shower in the basement of one of the university’s building (a group shower no less, though I was the only person in there at the time, thank god) and went to work.
I called MM and bitched my head off until he agreed to call our landlady right that very second (my theory is that she likes him the best). Apparently, she spotted one in her apartment (oh god) and put down poison. The lovely fella (or gal) that showed up this morning, seemingly ingested some of the poison, got back into the wall, and decided that our tub was the best possible spot in the entire two flat to die.
Thanks fucker; your poison-induced, near death stupor ruined my morning.
Of course, now I feel dirty. It’s not necessarily my fault. MM and I do live in Chicago, and things like roaches do happen, regardless of your cleaning habits. But I plan to spend this weekend scrubbing my house from top to bottom, possibly with bleach… possibly with something stronger.
But in the meantime, our landlady (to her credit, she’s a good landlady) is going to put traps in our apartment.
If you managed to get through that, you’ve come to the good part! Lucky you!
I had my follow up appointment with the foot doctor yesterday. Things are looking good and I’ve been advised that I can begin “weaning” myself off the boot. I can also begin doing the elliptical trainer and other exercise. If my foot is pain-free by this time next week, I’ve been given the go ahead to run, only 10 minutes though, and on the treadmill. From there, assuming I continue to be pain-free, I can keep adding time to my treadmill runs, and once I hit the 30 minute mark, I can take my show on the road.
Last night, after being tired and bored and whiny at work, I waffled on whether or not I wanted to spend an hour at the gym. I knew that if I didn’t I’d spend the rest of my evening parked on the couch watching American’s Next Top Model and Glee (Watch this please; I do not want to deal with another “It’s such a great show but no one’s watching so we have to cancel” scenario. Remember Arrested Development, people? It’s MM’s new favorite show, according to him, after seeing it twice) and whatever other crap was on.
So I went. I turned on my iPod, choosing to listen to the “Wedding Good Times” mix that I put together for the trip to Sawyer, Michigan with MM, my sister, and my sister’s boyfriend, and I busted a move on the elliptical. Seriously, once I got started I looked longingly at the treadmills, which were nearly all available since the weather was perfect for running yesterday evening. It was all I could do to keep myself from jumping on a treadmill.
Who would have thought that I would be craving the treadmill? One more week.
However, despite my lack of running sadness, it felt great to be at the gym again. I practically skipped home (with my boot on).
As for the marathon, it looks like I’m going to bail on this one. I hate to do it, mostly because I feel like I’m using my injury as an excuse because I don’t feel much like fighting for it this year. And yes, if I wanted to fight for it, the doctor seemed to think that he could get me to the starting line. But really, if my heart’s not in it, isn’t that an even more compelling reason not to toe the line on October 11? Even on the best days, 26.2 miles is a long way to go. It’s been a busy year. Taking on the marathon in addition to a few half marathons was ambitious considering all of the life changes that coincided with training. Right now, I’m undertrained and underwhelmed. Why should I end up in a boot again just to prove to myself that I wanted it when I really don’t?