I'm still intact.
I survived 30 minutes on the elliptical, at a fairly good clip. And I actually feel pretty good today. Guess that means I'll keep going back. Just not today. Today's challenges are a bit different in nature, though I'll likely get my heart rate up with the latter.
The first is already in the books: Supportive Partner Man (out bringing home the bacon! ... mmm, bacon...) and I visited the dentist this morning. He has a cavity. I have two ... plus two childhood fillings that have given up the ghost and need to be drilled out and replaced. So we'll both be back in the chair of Dr. Kingston (who looks like he's all of 12) next month for fun with drills, novocaine and amalgam. Yippee, I say unto you. Yip-frakking-pee.
Honestly, it's not as bad as all that. My lifetime dental experiences haven't been terrible. I'm not petrified to go get it taken care of, as many people are. I was, as usual, chastised for my aversion to flossing, but beyond that it was all cool. And I even was handed — tweeted, really — a laugh as I was waiting this morning. I tweeted that I was cooling my heels, waiting for my appointment. My friend Glenn decided to send some encouragement via YouTube: Mr. Steve Martin. Yes, I speak of his turn in "Little Shop of Horrors."
Snicker.
Post-dentist, I've progressed to laundry and plant-watering. Then there's that which I'm putting off as I type this entry: Cleaning the kitchen and the living room.
Domestic goddess, I ain't. It looks like a bomb went off down here, killing dust bunnies willy-nilly and scattering pots, pans, dishes, foodstuffs and plastic bags to the four winds. I'm not sure where I'm going with all of it, but I need to at least make an effort to put things to rights.
It's reached I-can't-take-it-anymore critical mass.
And I suppose it's not going to get done as I sit here typing.
To the vacuum and Mr. Clean it is. If I don't check back in soon, please send someone to see if I'm trapped under a pile of debris.
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