Ten.Two Thousand, Four Hundred & Four
Waited too long to get out of bed.
I pick a new workout with a new trainer, and she keeps saying, “damn it,” and it’s distracting, but the workout is good.
My list of to-do’s keeps getting longer and longer, and I keep thinking, “They really should rehire that position.”
Chicken in the salad. PTSD.
The sun is breaking through. Thank goodness for a break in the rain.
Well. It could be something. It could be nothing. Just wait and see.
When your daughter’s friends says she lives for your Instagram, all you can do is laugh. And worry a bit. But mostly laugh.
It’s not how you want to end, but someone has to lose. You just never want it to be you.
Stunted.
Watching Sports Center highlights, and it’s the USC game, and I think to myself, “Sometimes, I think I’m wound tighter than Juju Watkin’s bun.” A giggle.
