Ninety five weeks out from surgery, and here are the numbers I care about:
- Weight: 238
Up / down 0.0 pounds.
Or? Conceivable. Three weeks in a row is amazing precision, I’ve clearly perfected the art of keeping my bad habits in a rut. There’s a LOT going on these last few weeks. Lots of work, lots of stress, lots of shit to process. It’s a lot. Hah. but I’m taking care of it. Tomorrow my wife and I have a doctor’s appointment I’ve been kind of waiting all year for and I’m so glad for it to finally be here. I’ll be leaving it as vague as that for this week.
Three things I’m grateful for:
- Tacos. I had lunch with Rob earlier today, at the new taco place just down the street and it was great. What I’m really grateful for is my friendship with Rob, but fuck letting him know that, it’ll go straight to his head.
- Meals with friends. And I’m really enjoying that I’m able to start doing the above about once a week. Friday is a dinner party with some of my favorite people. I’m like a dry old sponge that’s just been thrown in a river and I’m soaking up as much water as I’m capable of.
- My niece Skye. She just showed up at the door and we’re hanging out having dinner tonight. Because life is starting to get good like that again (fucking finally).
I’m good this week. I’m caught up on work, for the moment, I’m seeing friends again, and I’m intentionally ignoring the Trump-directed GOP efforts to undermine our constitution because it’s a fucking travesty and if I don’t ignore it, I’ll get that fucked up little knot of anger in my stomach and that doesn’t feel very nice.
Here, have a graphic:
