Okay, so something I need to talk about is this feeling of bloody irritation and low level anger. WTF? I thought I was an easy going kinda gal. Since this new life adjustment, I'm suffering a kind of grumbling resentment. It's a bank holiday weekend and I'm playing Mrs. Mop? Now, no one has asked me to morph into this boring Stepford wife but method role playing got the better of me. I dug deep into my psyche and pulled this version of "a wife". A doll like apparatus with movable parts. Legs and arms bend but only slightly. Cooks and cleans and issues Mom like instructions to teenage boy.
Where is the wild me? The part that can not be tamed? I will not slide into middle age a version of myself. I realise I'm going through some kind of transitory period. I hit upon a particularly good dance album this morning. I say morning but to most of you this is probably the middle of the night. All it took was the sultry tones of a cracking bass line to make me remember. Who says this new life has to void of big old fashioned FUN?
Natural high hey. Worth thinking about. So what do all the other boring health nuts do for kicks? They exercise don't they? They climb mountains and all that shit. Husband would love that. Next time he wants to do Everest I might back a bag. Right, seeing as I quit Croak Patrick a third of the way up squealing "why?" "why?", I doubt going climbing is the right sport for me. Seriously though, little old ladies were passing me out like they had consumed amphetamine at base of "hill". Cue post traumatic stress just at the thought of that horrible memory.
Half of D4 are doing the Dublin city marathon this morning. Another reason to feel like a failure. I tried the couch to 5k about 10 or so times. I give up at week 6. If I stuck it out I could be decked out in lycra feeling very smutten smug. Surfing perhaps? I do live beside the sea. Closest I got to surfing was watching that documentary on surfers in Lahinch. Does that count? I mean I stood beside the surfers, surely that counts for something?
Half of D4 are doing the Dublin city marathon this morning. Another reason to feel like a failure. I tried the couch to 5k about 10 or so times. I give up at week 6. If I stuck it out I could be decked out in lycra feeling very smutten smug. Surfing perhaps? I do live beside the sea. Closest I got to surfing was watching that documentary on surfers in Lahinch. Does that count? I mean I stood beside the surfers, surely that counts for something?
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