Someday I will stop apologizing for being late, because I will no longer be late. Today is not that time. Tomorrow's not looking good either.
It's a beautiful day in NYC. Weight Watchers has been going well; the past two weeks I've recommitted to being healthy and active. This weekend I voluntarily chased two-year-old twin boys around the local playground in the heat and humidity for the sake of extreme calorie-burning, after it worked so well last weekend (if you want a "different" total body workout, volunteer to give "horseyback rides" to a group of small children, and then convince another adult to do the same and race you while doing it. The kids love it and the next day you'll be sore in all the right places - just make sure you're doing it on a springy surface or your knees will hate you). (Stop looking at me funny. I'm serious.)
Living on my own has been going well, although I still walk into the apartment sometimes or wake up in the morning and feel like none of it is real - I'm either dreaming or just visiting, and at some point the person who actually lives in my apartment is going to come back and it will be time to go home. I wonder when that feeling goes away.
On the plus side, everything is up to me. I pick what comes in and what goes out, from food to furniture to people. I don't have to fight anyone for the bathroom, I have four closets (FOUR!) all to myself, and if the place gets messy I don't have to hear about it, because it's MY place and MY mess.
On the minus side, I don't like cleaning any more than I did when I was living with my parents. Also, personal addictions that may have been a side issue when living in cramped conditions become full-blown under the microscope when you live alone and have time to face them.
That said, the following post will be my usual complaint/confessional...
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