Finally. A salad, glass of Riesling, and blogging.
This is a break in and of itself from a final 15 page paper and presentation which are both due on Thursday. Thankfully, it is the very last class. I’m not sure my Hebrew-Greek-Aramaic-German-English speaking professor would pass me if he and I had to put up with each other any longer than that. Last Thursday I said, “You know, I’m really not a feminist. It’s just that you give me no other choice.”
Literally, the man vacillates between his regular voice and about 12 other dialects. Fine. Annoying but fine. Until he starts using his “female” rendition – specifically mimicking Esther and Vashti. It’s this high-pitched, little girl, “Help Me! Help Me!” kind of voice, his smug face making it even more appalling. He knows by now how totally offensive this display of weird is, and he (along with the rest of the class) always looks over at me for a reaction in the midst of his gong-worthy stand up routine. I’ve had plenty to say, plenty to push back with, and plenty of big blue eye rolls. Which all adds up to a 10% A for class participation.
Anyway, 4:30 on Thursday can’t come soon enough. The Master’s diploma will be mailed to replace the fake one I received in April. A break from class is just one of many that I sorely need and am about to take. After a lengthy crying jag (made instantly better by a soothing and comedic voice who knows me well) earlier, I decided my downsizing starts effective pronto.
First, the house stuff. From the stupid man-cave to every nook, cranny, and closet in this place – it’s going. I simply don’t need it all, use it all, or want it all. Well, maybe the shoes. But aside from the shoes, I’m downsizing.
Secondly, my communication. Seriously you ask? Yes, seriously! I am on an official monk-like talking sabbatical. And it is exactly in this spirit why I will not elaborate any further.
Thirdly, yeah…thirdly. Here it is. Running. (Now are all the tears understood?) My heel just can’t do it.
This left heel problem has been going on since stinking March. It’s not working and the more I try to run through it, the worse it gets. Even had it scraped again on Wednesday. It was THE WORST scraping I’ve ever had.
I made it clear to Tom that he needed to fix it once and for all, which apparently was code for try and rival a bone marrow biopsy on the pain scale. That part was successful; the once and for all part was not. I stayed off it Thursday and Friday with the intent of running 15 this morning. Got through a not so impressive 8 before I had to bail. Epic fail.
So here I am, still feeling slightly off-kilter at my newfound downsizing. Going from a constant hundred miles an hour to coasting at Sunday driver speed is kind of terrifying. But I know I can do it because I have to. I’m long overdue and sick of being stuck in between gears.
Nicaragua, cross training, and a clean house…here I come. Just don’t ask me about it because I’m not talking.
For at least a week.