beak

Meta drinking game.

Take a drink if someone says “take a drink if someone says”.

Please do not actually play this game.

Some days, you are the eyeball.

You know how that goes, the saying with the bug and the windshield?

Today. Running, and not even that fast. Bug. My eyeball.

I have eyeball injury concerns, which is how I like to phrase my abject horror over things not my contact lens entering my eye-bulb area. In fact, the top three things that horrify me are: accidentally drinking curdled milk, being forced into very close spaces with no immediate way out, and being injured in the eyeball.

(Yes, that one scene in “Minority Report”, yes. I know it.)

So today a bug flew right into my eyeball and I kept running because I am hardcore like that. The running was more of a “flailing majestically forward while attempting to wipe the bug out of the eyeball without touching the eyeball” which I bet was a hoot and a holler to watch during the morning commute.

In other news, I like running in the park.

I made Zen a little tent out of some wrapping paper. She is purring so hard that the whole thing shakes.:

Posted by twitter.com/cygnoir

I am feeling this quotation today, via darkshifter:

I don’t know where this is from, but it’s awesome. A word from The Doctor and the importance of libraries.

A shameful admission and a glorious admittance.

Shameful admission first: I did not exercise this morning. I hit snooze on my iPhone xylophone alarm multiple times, which wasn’t a hit so much as a groggily focused tap, and if you must know after that level of finger-phone coordination I was probably awake enough to just go on and get out of bed already. But I didn’t.

When I finally succumbed to the insistence of the xylophone, I checked my email and there was my admittance to grad school. You all said that my persistence would pay off, and it did. This is exactly where I wanted to be. The timing is a little wonky, what with the massive party we’re gearing up for in a few months, but hey, I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t do things the hard way.

And that, my friends, is what she said.

“The Scariest Unemployment Graph I’ve Seen Yet” from The Atlantic: “The median duration of unemployment is higher today than any time in the last 50 years. That’s an understatement. It is more than twice as high today than any time in the last 50 years.”

Restart-enabled and fire-resistant.

My Fitbit reports the sad truth I already know: I am not getting enough exercise during the work week. I know, Fitbit, I know.

Saturday I was feeling pretty sorry about the state of my exercise plan — if you can even call it that — so I decided to do the very first workout of the Couch to 5k plan. I added a slight variation by choosing a there-and-back route that is first downhill, thinking that the endorphins would start to kick in around the halfway mark, making the uphill struggle less dramatic.

It worked! I made it! I felt great! Well, to be honest, I felt horrible first, and then great.

Saturday night was consumed by fire, no lie: part of our neighbors’ house caught on fire, and so we helped out as best we could, providing moral support and a safe place to rest while the fire department handled the scary parts. We didn’t sleep well that night, the smell of smoke still lurking in the house, and yesterday was frayed at the edges by worry. This morning I continued in my running restart, but didn’t get the endorphin high I was expecting.

Fitbit tells me I am not getting enough sleep each night, something I already knew but hated to confirm. I would like Fitbit to adjust for nightmares about catching on fire.