Crankypants

And so it begins: the fattening of Duder. I’ve kind of put running (and all forms of physical activity, apparently) on the back burner until after the move. The five pounds I gained seem destined to stay, for the short term at least. I’m increasingly tired as my energy levels drop. And I am cranky! By the time I got in to work today I was ready to punch someone and I had to check myself and ask what my problem was. It wasn’t PMS. Nothing that of any import occurred on the bus ride that should have elicited anything other than mild irritation, and yet there I was, ready to break out my nunchucks and start beaning people at 8:30 in the morning. Sigh. I wish I did have nunchucks. Wait! That’s wrong, violence is not the answer. Let us make love, not war. Please? Ha! How much does that factor into things. I digress. The point that I was trying to make before I managed to baffle myself with bullshit is that I’m cranky because I’m not running, and this move is definitely not helping matters.
And the weather isn’t conducive to running either. It’s not nice. It’s cold. It’s dark. I don’t have contacts and I don’t like to run with glasses. And it’s cold and dark. Did I mention the cold darkness? I’m a baby.
And yes. I am smart enough to know that if I run I will lose weight. If I run the stress will dissipate. If I run I can increase my energy levels. But the packing and the cleaning! The cold darkness! Why were there so many safety pins in the junk drawer? Why do I have stale taco shells in my cupboard? What am I going to do with three or four years worth of Vanity Fair? When am I going to take my IBM Craptiva to the computer recyling place? What the hell is in my freezer? Why do I have a spare microwave turntable? Is that even the correct term?? Do I have to clean my blinds?
Yeah, yeah. Enough already. It’ll get done. It is small in the grand thing of schemes. I mean the grand scheme of things.