I woke up too late for my own good, quarter-to-noon. I hate wasting my day away. "I've got to go for a run," I tell myself. Instead, I lay my head back on the pillow. Just for a few minutes, anyway.
Now it's 12:17, and I've got to get to the pharmacy before it closes. Forty-five minutes later I'm home, but the cats are hungry and the litter box needs to be cleaned. Meanwhile, I put on my running pants. I get dressed in chapters.
Chapter one: pants.
Chapter two: where are my socks?
So now I've got on running pants and socks, but I'm addicted to the Internet, so I have to go read the latest updates on Twitter. It'll just take a minute. But now I've already blogged twice, posted on both Twitter and DailyMile, and I realize I haven't eaten yet.
I can't run on an empty stomach.
So I get the cat out of my lap, and head to the kitchen to make oatmeal. My phone rings, it's Rob. When we hang up, I try to find a base layer that doesn't smell. And where is my iPod?
Now I'm back at the computer. Found my iPod, by the way, and I'm eating my oatmeal. And blogging. I've got to blog about why it takes me so long to actually get out the door and run.
I'm also staring outside at the snow. And slush. It looks cold. Maybe the longer I stare at it, the less cold it'll be when I get outside. That's ridiculous logic. It's after 2 p.m. now. I'm going to have to wait for my oatmeal to settle and digest, but while I'm waiting I can read.
Except then I'll get sucked into the book. Just one more chapter, I'll say, and suddenly it's dark outside. And still cold. Colder, probably. I'll run shorter than intended because I don't like running in the dark.
By the time I get home and stretched and showered and waste more time on Twitter, it's after 8 o'clock.