Four things that made me feel better

1.  Monday night, we cleaned the crap out of the house.  Still have some catching up to do on laundry, but the house is clean in general.

2.  Working out.  Tonight, more looking death in the face plyometrics.  We tried the ab workout last night after doing an hour of chest and back work, but swinging my torso from the ground to my ankles just wasn't happening.  Also, it made something on the inside of my chest hurt.  Not my heart... I'm thinking a muscle of some sort.  Or maybe my boobs are just getting in the way again -- like they got in the way when I was doing "dive bomber" push ups. 

If you don't know what that is, picture someone in the up position, like before they go down for a push up.  Then picture them suddenly turning into a pelican:  go down nose first, collapse until you're going down chest first, and then nose goes in the air with your arms straightened up.  So, at the end, you kind of look like you're doing the upward facing dog yoga pose, except the look on your face is not from serenity, but terror and pain.  Anyway, so I can't get past the part after where your nose goes down, because the next part is to curve your head up and get your chest down... because my boobs then act as brakes on the floor, and then I do a face-plant into the carpet.

3.  My older niece, who I call "The Bean," and I address her as simply "Bean," wrote me a letter for a class project, and she drew a picture of me and her next to a bonfire.  She obviously holds my appearance in higher regard than I do, because I saw the picture and thought, "Wow, what a tiny waist she gave me!  And my hair never does that!" instead of noticing my amputated forearms and Mom Jeans:
I totally notice that she spent more time on her hair than on mine.  But that's okay.  At least I was able to tell what the drawing was.  I spent years saying, "Awwwww, what a lovely elepha--"  "Walrus."  "--aaalrus!"

As part of her project, I had to answer questions that she wrote me.  Things about my favorite classes, teachers, etc. when I was young.  But she also asked me what was my least favorite thing about being a kid, and I almost put "being bullied," but just in case she had to read it in front of the whole class, I didn't want 20 eight-year-olds feeling sorry for The Bean's wimpy-ass Aunt Susie.  So instead, I wrote that sometimes I had to eat food I didn't like, and now that I can cook for myself, I don't have to eat anything I don't want to.

I also told her that Language was my favorite class in elementary school, because I always loved to read and write.  I then hopped onto a soap box and told her how I had wanted to be a writer since I was a little kid, and now I am a writer, so Bean!  Do something you love! etc.  I left out the part where I wanted to be a novelist when I was a kid and now I'm a technical writer, but she can find out how boring I am when she's older.

4.  I was joking around with some co-workers in the cafeteria this morning, and later I found a tiny, work-made gift basket on my desk with mints and Starbucks hot cocoa mix in it, and a note that read, "Thank you for a good laugh this morning!".  So I feel like I did something today that brightened someone's day.  But I forget what made her laugh.

Background -- me and my brother (left), at a cousin's wedding; my parents' living room 1984:  David holding cousin Jon (of Vintage Union fame), David's sister Janis doing God knows what, my brother holding me.  Foreground -- a bitchin' thank you gift.

The only bad stuff about today is that (1) it's cold; and (2) I keep forgetting I have a cut on my finger, so every time I put on hand sanitizer, I kind of want to stab out my eyes.

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