Seriously?!

Bone Weary

I'm pooped. Thursday night went out with CPI, Sarah and the guest instructor. Had three drinks (double VTs) and then went home. Fun, but considering I didn't manage to get to bed until about 1am...

Friday after regular work at the paper, I helped Jeanine with Outdoor Cinema. Six to Midnight, running the concession stand. Asleep around 1:30am. Up again to work at tea shop from 9-5:30. Crash about 10:30pm. Up again at 9am to work tea shop from 11-5:30. Then went to see the 9:30p showing of HarryPotter3 and didn't get to sleep until 1:30am again.

Oi. My feet are fucking killing me.

Not to mention I had to wear zero-cush flip-flops all weekend because during karate on Friday night I bashed the hell out of the top of my foot. I missed the padded part of the wavemaster and landed full-force on the hard core, black plastic portion of the support base. I think the adreleline was pumping though, because it didn't hurt until later. My whole foot swelled up like an eggplant and I couldn't wear lace-up shoes. It's still a little tender this morning, but at least I can wear actual shoes. And then I was on my feet all weekend.

I have this weird, enormous bruise midway on the inside of my right thigh that I can't remember getting. I hate that. Of course, with the way my week went someone could've beaten the hell of out me while I was sleeping and I wouldn't even have woken up.

It's really no wonder I feel down and out this morning. I've run the gamut of feeling-bad-about- myself-negative-self-talk... you're never going to lose weight, you're never going to write a book, your hair looks like shit, you're never going to have any money... the whole bit. NegativeNellyx100.

I feel marginally better now that I've had some coffee though.

Could be worse though, right? I could be dead or something - instead of just dead on my feet.