And here's what I have to say after skimming, if not downright reading, almost all of my posts. OMG, I am so ANNOYING! How do any of you even like me? Ugh!
Anyway, if you are a masochist and still here, thanks.
The part where I had time to sit here for three gaseous hours and add categories to my posts may tell you that hey! I still have no work to do. Have been sending my resume just everywhere. So sick of writing about what a stellar copy editor I am. If I were so stellar, wouldn't I be inundated with work? Hmmm?
Everyone please think jobby thoughts for me. And if you are looking for work, too, post a comment here so we can all think jobby thoughts for you, as well.
Even more important, could everyone also send some good thoughts out to my Uncle Jim, whose cancer has returned? Stupid effing horrid cancer. Hate you, stupid cancer. Hate. He had his first chemo yesterday. I mean, his first chemo this time around. It really did the trick last time, so let's hope it gets rid of it this time, too. And FOR GOOD. If I met cancer I would slap its mamma. That's how much I hate it.
As opposed to all those people who just adore it.
The good news is I get to run today. And yes, oddly I am already back at that point, where I think of it as I "get" to run. Yes, I still feel like I'm gonna die or barf or die barfing when I run, but oh, I feel glorious when it's over.
When I was busy going through all my old annoying posts last night, I read the part where I was training for that half marathon last year. Did anyone notice I was like a hummingbird, with the energy and vim and oomph and such? I made my lunches for the ENTIRE WEEK and I also ironed that week's clothes and set them all out. Does anyone remember that Rain-Man-okay-calm-down -sister moment?
Of course, that might have been the period where I was way into the meth. I can't be sure.
Oh! And by the way, my running instructor told me she really didn't think I should run with the dog anymore. Because of the part where she pulls and lags and then pulls. The dog, not the running instructor. Liz, the running instructor, the one with the perfect body who probably did not have waffles for breakfast like yours truly over here, said I need to get into my flow. So far it's less of a flow and more of a jolt/stop/jolt/fall over.
I will go now, so I can put on my flattering running clothes and delight the neighborhood with my flow. I leave you with my dream last night: I had a dream that Marvin, his sister, and I all went to a restaurant where you had the option of dressing like a drag queen during dinner. They had tons of wigs and shoes and clothes. Marvin's sister stampeded for the dressing room, which I really don't see her doing in real life, and when I woke up I was eyeing a gold lame romper and am really angry I didn't get to see myself in it.
Someone has been bitten by the drag queen bug. I got the sweetest hangover. I don't want to get over.