All right, chickadees.
It’s Friday morning.
I hit up the gym by 6:15 AM.
I replaced my Y card.
The membership associate didn’t charge me the $5 fee (I wonder how many times I’ve donated $5 for a new Y card. I imagine when I move out of my apartment I’ll find them all cowering in a corner somewhere).
And the man who swiped my card was pleasant (and in three days this week, my Y nemesis hasn’t been spotted. Maybe he decided customer service wasn’t his gig?)
I’ve got an excellent feeling about this weekend.
Or at least the day I’m staring down.
My plans involve getting back into my routine after several weeks away from it, which means hitting up bells class (and probably regretting it for the rest of the day), getting to the market (just even guessing at what kind of bounty they have at this point in the season is improving my mood), and whipping my home into shape.
The dust, chickens.
It’s a frightening proposition to battle it all, but it must be done.
Thank you for listening to my pep talk to self.
Only 9 hours stands between me and an evening of dinner and hanging with JW, and that, as I see it, is a very good thing.
Get out into that day!