Breaking Up is Hard to Do

Well folks, it's weigh-in day, and I have to confess that I'm not expecting much. I've been quite the sloth this week, focusing not on exercising and eating properly, but on catching up on sleep. I didn't even finish my cleanse, but I'm blaming that on my darling husband who, whenever he came across a dirty great big bottle of diarrhea sitting on the counter (sorry, that's what it looks like), did the smart thing and poured it out, thus saving me from having to drink it.

I saw the Dr. on Thursday about this invisible lardass of an elephant who's been sitting on my shoulders for the past few weeks. Not much to report there; had some blood work done on Friday and hopefully will find out next week why going up the 14 stairs in my house is leaving me winded. Needless to say, there was no working out this week either...so, what's the verdict?

Weight: 179.0
This week: +1.0
Total: -2.2

Could be worse. Will forge ahead, and damned if I'm going to see 180 on that scale ever again!!

I've been feeling a little morose lately; I have decided to sell off my glass-working equipment. Half of our basement is taken up by my workbench right now; various crockpots full of acids and toxic chemicals, tanks of gas, torches, failed experimental metal and glass projects, tools, glass, beads, and rack after rack of finished jewelry litter two large tables that haven't been used in years. I miss it like crazy, and just going down there bums me out because I just don't have the time to put into making jewelry that I used to...so I need it to go. Some of it, anyway.

I feel like I am saying good-bye to doing glass work forever. Joel says that's silly; that one day there will be more time for us to pursue our hobbies, but I don't see how that's possible; there are only so many hours in the day and there is so very much I want to do...maybe he's right and I will return to it someday, but in the meantime I need all my dusty tools to stop whispering at me.

Anyway, enough whining! The strange thing about having a blog like this is that it is practically a blank check for self-pity and self-indulgence, but wouldn't we all prefer to read silly stories and diarrhea analogies? I would.