It's possible that today was the most brutal day I've had since I left my day job -- and I include the disastrous day when I was stranded in tropical hell (aka Tahiti) in that definition. I had an unusually abysmal time sleeping last night -- I think I netted less than two hours, which made this morning an exercise in pain. But I managed to drag myself out of bed, and I took the odd step of showering before going to the gym just so I would wake up, which I think was a decent tactic.
Despite the shower, I almost bailed on Alyssa; the idea of driving to the south bay seemed like an idiotic move, but I knew that if I didn't do it, I probably wouldn't leave the house at all. So I sucked it up and went to Palo Alto, which ended up feeling great; we did cleans and snatches, and while my fatigued self probably slammed the bell into my own wrist more often than usual, it was good to get some exertion in.
But you know I was tired when I say that I skipped lunch altogether, bought a coffee at Philz, and drove home with nothing but caffeine to make up for my workout calories. When I got here, I napped off and on most of the afternoon - it was truly impossible to contemplate doing anything productive, so I just laid around on the couch and on my bed and tried to think of nothing.
This was mostly successful, and I was mostly revived in time to take a shower and meet Dave for a late(ish) dinner/drinks at Monk's Kettle. It could have been earlier, since his bus was stuck in some sort of traffic debacle, but as it turned out, we got really lucky - the 1hr+ wait I was quoted when I put my name in turned into ten minutes when I agreed to take an outdoor table (while Dave was still looking for parking - #protip, never drive to the mission), and while the fog and wind conspired to make the sidewalk chilly, the heat lamps and the three glasses of wine and the risotto and the delightful conversation kept my insides warm. I hadn't seen Dave since my last day at work, so we had a lot to catch up on. Not that there was enough time to catch up on everything...we used to see each other every day, so three weeks is a lifetime of stories to share. But it was good to hang out, and he gave me a ride home, which my unemployed self appreciated (I mean, my employed self would have appreciated it too, but I cared about budgets much less when I was making a corporate salary and a writing salary at the same time).
sssanyway, as is probably clear, I'm short on sleep and long on wine, so I should probably go to bed before that combination results in a lot of gibberish typing. Goodnight!
Despite the shower, I almost bailed on Alyssa; the idea of driving to the south bay seemed like an idiotic move, but I knew that if I didn't do it, I probably wouldn't leave the house at all. So I sucked it up and went to Palo Alto, which ended up feeling great; we did cleans and snatches, and while my fatigued self probably slammed the bell into my own wrist more often than usual, it was good to get some exertion in.
But you know I was tired when I say that I skipped lunch altogether, bought a coffee at Philz, and drove home with nothing but caffeine to make up for my workout calories. When I got here, I napped off and on most of the afternoon - it was truly impossible to contemplate doing anything productive, so I just laid around on the couch and on my bed and tried to think of nothing.
This was mostly successful, and I was mostly revived in time to take a shower and meet Dave for a late(ish) dinner/drinks at Monk's Kettle. It could have been earlier, since his bus was stuck in some sort of traffic debacle, but as it turned out, we got really lucky - the 1hr+ wait I was quoted when I put my name in turned into ten minutes when I agreed to take an outdoor table (while Dave was still looking for parking - #protip, never drive to the mission), and while the fog and wind conspired to make the sidewalk chilly, the heat lamps and the three glasses of wine and the risotto and the delightful conversation kept my insides warm. I hadn't seen Dave since my last day at work, so we had a lot to catch up on. Not that there was enough time to catch up on everything...we used to see each other every day, so three weeks is a lifetime of stories to share. But it was good to hang out, and he gave me a ride home, which my unemployed self appreciated (I mean, my employed self would have appreciated it too, but I cared about budgets much less when I was making a corporate salary and a writing salary at the same time).
sssanyway, as is probably clear, I'm short on sleep and long on wine, so I should probably go to bed before that combination results in a lot of gibberish typing. Goodnight!
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