the world is out to get my shins and some other stuff happens too

So I’ve been having a brain block when it comes to ideas for posts this week, thus my general lack of posts. The problem isn’t that nothing has happened this week (I mean, nothing has, but since I usually write about eating, or CrossFit, or my underwear, that’s no excuse). The main problem is that the big, embarrassing, entertaining story I really want to tell you (all two of you, loyal readers) is something I’m not allowed to talk about due to certain security clearance regulations at work.

In fact, I proceeded to tell this story to everyone I saw this week anyway—before I realized I wasn’t supposed to—and I’m still alive and so far not fired, but I think publishing it on the world wide interweb might be pushing my luck. Just a little. But every time I sat down to write something, that story popped into my head, and I couldn’t think of anything else to write about.

I still can’t. But the rules of writing say I have to write anyway. If you write anyway, you’ll find out you have something to say. Or whatever.

Besides, stuff totally happened this week.

For instance, I decided to attack a 20” box with my shins while I was at CrossFit. The box won, obviously. But I did get a super cool bruise for my trouble. I’m not entirely sure the shin damage was worth it though, as this is the week I’ve started getting up early to run. I caved in and decided to pay $40 to join Roomie’s gym until April, so I don’t have to run in the dark. But now I’ve developed the most excruciating shin splints. It’s like a seven thousand red ants are drilling their way through my shins with broken light sabers. Seriously, much worse than I have EVER had before. I couldn’t even run three miles yesterday.

I listened to the I’ll Make a Man out of You song from Mulan about 6 times during my run, trying to bully myself into running anyway, despite the crippling pain in my legs. “If Mulan could become a soldier and climb that telephone pole and make a really hot cartoon guy fall in love with her, surely you can run more than three miles even with your shin splints.”

Or not.

I’ve been slightly more successful at other stuff this week though. I sort of figured out how toes to bar is supposed to work … more or less. I painted a fun picture on my purchased-from-Goodwill end table (I would put a picture on here if I my camera worked) and, apparently, painted part of my computer keyboard yellow while I was at it. I went to bed at 9:30 on Saturday night like the biggest dork you ever saw, and it was AWESOME. I went The Melting Pot for dinner with Sis and Roomie on Friday night and ate at least half a pot of cheese all by myself. And I rode two horses today and then managed to weedle an invite to go foxhunting next weekend.

So at least my week ends on a high point. Horses rock.


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