Lazy Sunday

We did not watch the "Chronic(what)cles of Narnia." We did, however, sleep in. Late. Very late. Until almost 11:00. I don't know why. I was tired from a lack of sleep (I didn't take my Ambien, and as a result, had a night of bizarre nightmares, including a rather vivid one in which db busted into my house and walked out with Bob). Ben tossed and turned a lot, too, because our bedroom is the only room in the house with only one outside wall and, therefore, the warmest room in the house. Sometimes, the only downright hot room in the house. We woke to gray gloomy January ice and sleet. And honestly, it's not like we had anything important to do--so lazing around in bed til 11:00 really wasn't an issue.

We went to First Watch again, and this time selected our brunches a little more wisely (the 720 calorie crepes instead of the 9oo calorie ones), then I dropped Ben off at the house and drove to the Outdoor Mega Mall in search of a Plain White Button-up Shirt. You know what that means. After visiting 4 stores and realizing the Gap and Ann Taylor Loft are obviously high if they think I'll pay $44 for a fucking white shirt, I went to New York & Co. and stumbled onto their kick-ass sale. Not only did I get my white shirt, but seven other items for a total of $73. Not too fuckin' shabby. (And there's enough left on my gift card for another two Indian buffet lunches. Rock star.) I left the Mega Mall as the Big Storm was starting to hit, and managed to get home before it got too shitty out.

We hit the gym at that point. I have learned to truly love the elliptical machine. It doesn't make my shins scream out in pain. It doesn't make my knees say things like "we weren't into this 20 years ago, what makes you think we're into it now?" It does, however, make my right foot go numb, and I'm only good for 55 minutes before the ball of my foot starts to burn from lack of sensation. But you can kick a lot of ass in 55 minutes.

Mitzi Green's Recipe for a Kick-Ass Elliptical Workout:

1. long sleeves and nothing shorter than capris (gyms are full of germs, and shorts ride up into your ass)

2. lip balm (if you, too, are a mouth-breather, your lips are going to get horrifically dry)

3. 1 bottle of water (see above)

4. Kick-Ass Workout Mix CD including the likes of Adam Ant, BBD, Michael Jackson (pre-pedophile/plastic surgery era), Romeo Void, Oingo Boingo, Beastie Boys, and, of course, "My Name is Prince."

Use 2 and 3 as needed. Use long sleeves to wipe sweat from ears and forehead and snot from nose in the event of an ill-timed sneeze. Adjust resistance level so that you can keep pace to the beat of each song on 4. Don't be afraid to sing out loud--it keeps the gym rats away from you. Optional--finish with a nice swim in the pool and a short soak in the hot tub.

A killer (and cheap) community center with a sweet pool--just another advantage of living in Mayberry, USA.

Of course, I probably blew that workout with the two bowls of Ben's Fucking Awesome Chili I had for dinner. But I haven't eaten any girl scout cookies tonight. I even ate a banana. So suck it.

The bad news of the day involves the items I purchased this morning. Two identical fucking shirts--similar but for color, for chrissake--both mediums. One fits, the other is waaaay too fucking small. Explain this to me. Someone. Please. And I was dreaming when I thought I could get into the size 6 khakis without having a rollover. So I guess I'll be making some exchanges tomorrow.

Well, that, and the fact I still haven't talked to Bob, other than the very brief conversation of last night in which he told me he didn't want to talk right now.

I really don't want to go to work tomorrow.

I leave you with this:

"My name is Prince / and I am funky / When it comes to funk / I am a junky..."