The best-laid schemes o' mice an' men
Gang aft agley . . .
Plan A: Rise early, walk and run and sweat, and set a healthy tone for the rest of the day.
Plan B (aka The Chosen): Stay up till 1:11 a.m. watching Buffy, sleep later than intended, allow daughter to sleep till 9-something, bag exercise entirely, and set a tone of indolence, sloth, and crap-eating for the rest of the day.
Seriously. My lunch was caramel corn.
At one point today I ate a nectarine, and that's about all you can say for me. I feel fat and sluggish.
I did, however, take in three pairs of shorts (because I really am so much thinner despite my fat day) and tighten the straps on my newest bathing suit (which is also too big), and the kids and I cleaned the whole house (I even did Husband's chores!) and did a load of laundry, so it wasn't all navel-contemplation and high-cal foods.
Just . . . a fair amount.
Wow — 7:22 p.m. and it's near dark. The days are already so much shorter!
I'm going to take a hot bath and get to bed early, and tomorrow I will rise and greet the day with a brisk three-mile walk. That is my vow. I'm also baking caramel-cashew bars because we're invited to a Labor Day picnic — but I won't eat any, I am completely sweeted out right now. And perhaps I won't drink any wine either. Husband will be back; I expect to be intoxicated with happiness. ☺
Man, Buffy is addictive. It should be a controlled substance. Who can stop at just one episode??
—Lady C, admitting she has a problem