“Amy Guth, you are so fucking hard-headed.” -Ma Guth
I went running. At the one mile mark, having already long since hit the point where I generally start to find my groove, I was struggling and thinking why am I running so slow? why do I have a stitch in my side? why am I huffing and puffing and– oh right, dumbshit. The other day’s unforch lung biopsy. Doy. Fair enough. Maybe running days after Needle-in-Chest is a fucking stupid idea.
Speaking of wtf, there was just a guy in a sedan sitting in front of my building blaring (and clapping along to) gospel music with his windows down. I’m all for people getting down with what moves them, but dudeitwassoloud! My poor kitty was at the window yeowling like dudewhatthefuck? Weird.
I got another piece of glass in my foot from my kitchen floor. I thought I got all of the glass up from when I was last playing OOPAH-Ouzo-drunken-glass-smash, but apparently not. And by “playing OOPAH-Ouzo-drunken-glass-smash”, I, of course, mean hand-washing my stemware. I do enjoy a nice Ouzo, though.
On Monday, my darlings, I am going to be doing a very exciting week of guest blogging (But you’re going to have to wait a few more days until I tell you where) and I’ll shortly start doing a regular correspondent blog posting on another site. Lots of fun things in the works, eh? More on that later. I’ve got to buckle down and get some serious work finished tonight.