I typically work out in the morning. And by “work out” I mean, “take a walk” (a 90-minute walk, though!) or some low-key elliptical in the basement (if it’s too cold, rainy, or what-have-you). Yesterday morning, though, my throat was a bit scratchy, and I just said, “Ugh. I’ma gonna stay in bed where it’s nice and cozy.” (I said it to myself, though, so as not to wake anybody up).

And the morning just went downhill from there. AG woke up late, and dawdled, and I snapped at her, and I was late to work, and I just was in a foul mood all day. So last night, I said to spouse, “Unless I’m sick tomorrow morning – like, really sick, I am exercising.” I think I need the extra time in the morning by myself, the getting the blood flowing, the reflection … whatever it is, I need it. This has happened before when I skipped a morning constitutional* for no good reason.

Of course, that promise was made before the 1:30 wake-up call occasioned by AG’s … ah, need to toss her cookies.** Poor kiddo. On top of that, I had forgotten that she had had pizza and raspberries for dinner the night before, so at 1:30 a.m. I thought she was dying or something. (Note – she appears fine now; we think the raspberries might have been to blame).

But! I did make it up this morning to get some exercise, so I’m in a better mood today.

Better, but more tired. Oh, so tired.

*Not meant in the euphemistic sense.
**Meant in the euphemistic sense.

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