February 28th, 2007


The Tooter The Sweeter

I know it ain't for a lack of sleeping, because I've logged in an asston of hours this week. But, I'm wore-the-fuck-DOWN right now.

Take Sunday night, I went to bed at what, 8:30? That's 9 hours. Monday night, that was probably 9:30, and last night was 9:30. Both nights 8 hours. It's tough to ask for much more than that, and yet, I'm just tired all the damn TIME.

I once thought I had mono for an entire year. It turned out I was just really bored.

Two steps I'm taking to cure this insufferable fatigue: lots of orange juice and lots of ... the same amount of running. Look, I don't know if I'm coming down with something, if my immune system is on vacation, or if it's something more drastic, but unless I'm hacking up a lung or going blind with dehydration, I'm gonna continue running. It does nothing but HELP you, so how would stopping be to my advantage? I've run my way through colds before and it seems to work. At the very least, I get back to my normal self in a quicker fashion. What I DON'T want to do is wear myself out by staying up late, working hard, sitting upright when I don't have to ... you get the idea.

I'll tell you what's NOT working towards the cause: this fucking New York winter. Man, don't believe the hype you see on the boob tube. Any time you see snow on the ground of New York City, just go ahead and bank on it being a thrice-frozen pile of whatever's been plowed off the road earlier in the week. This shit just never goes away! Because it NEVER gets WARM!

Look, normally I prefer the cold to the constant drizzle of Seattle. A winter day in New York's a beautiful thing to see from an office window; I think there's been two cloudy days in the last three weeks here. But, getting my ass out of bed when I feel like dog droppings, putting on my running clothes with sweat that hasn't dried from the previous morning, marching my frigid ass out the door and down the block to the park I run around, it's a miserable fucking way to start your fucking day!

But, it's what I gotta do. I have a metabolism that moves at glacier speed, so if I don't run I don't get trim. But, I'm tellin' ya, I can't wait for my fucking birthday. Spring, or close enough to it. When I can wake up in the morning and not see my breath. When I can wake up in the morning and not see street lights. When I can wake up in the morning and wear a dry t-shirt instead of the same sweat-soaked, long-sleeved layers.

Until then, I'll just drink my tea and count the days.