It’s dark and dreary in the Second City, but it’s also supposed to warm up for 2.5 seconds, so I’m taking it.
Until it starts raining on me, that is.
Last night, after packing it in at work, I begrudgingly headed to bells in the dark.
I love bells, chickadees. But somedays, I’d rather lay around on the couch all night.
However, for the sake of Baby W’s brain function, I pressed on.
G was happy to see me (it’s too bad you’re married, he cackled at me while I picked up bells), and spent the first five minutes of class quizzing me on my prenatal diet, which according to him, would be much improved if I’d start drinking kefir.
I received a short lecture about the way bacteria affects your brain and mood, and he gave himself as an example of someone obviously cheerful as a result of the correct bacteria.
I’m not sure I can aspire to that level of energy, but maybe I’ll give it another try.
After swinging bells for an hour, I happily retreated to my couch, where I watched the Saints take a rainy slaughtering before finally deciding I could use nine hours of sleep.
It’s the little things, chicks.
Up today: I attend approximately one thousand meetings, skip the workout, and maybe get something productive done in my home before hitting the couch.
One step at a time is the name of this game, you guys.