Splat

It's just been one of those days. But due to the grace of God and a little yoga, I managed not to throttle anyone. Yet.

I just arrived home from my marathon day of meetings and annoyances. I spent four hours composing and editing an e-mail dissertation opining many subjects, not the least of which is that I am always right. The sooner everyone realizes and acknowledges that, the happier we'll all be, k?

After six or seven hours on the edge, work Jennifer (whom we'll heretofore call Pam to separate her from cousin-in-law Jennifer, and because she looks like Pam from "The Office") and I escaped to our self-proclaimed office yoga studio (a classroom with a huge projection TV where we spread out our mats and sweat through downward facing dog for 45 minutes) to relax and stretch. I like that Pam has decided to join me in my quest for zen and flexibility. It motivates me not to cheat in my poses or throw anything at Bethany, the perky girl from the yoga video. Bethany is less than 10% body fat and wears a do-rag over her uneven pigtails. How can I not hate her?

Luckily I logged three miles on the treadmill this morning before I went to work since I didn't make it home early enough for a third workout. I really wanted to since today I've eaten the equivalent of a small vending machine: granola bar, Reese's cup, and potato chips. All washed down with gallons of diet coke. But when you eat all three meals at your desk, what do you expect? Maybe Pam will bring in a George Foreman grill and make me a sandwich, unless Michael Scott has burned his foot in there.

I welcomed a new group at work tonight (which I LOVE) and that put me in a much better mood, until I left the office and face planted on the asphalt. After looking around to ensure that no one witnessed my lack of grace and checking to see if my laptop sustained any damage, I realized that my right knee was bleeding, and that I ruined my favorite pants from Express. Curses! I'm guessing patches on dress pants aren't a good look, right? My skinned palms, knees and egos will heal, but my $80 pants will not survive.



You know you're getting old when you trip over your own two feet stepping off a six-inch curb and anticipate the body aches that will surely come in the morning. I also may have purchased a fanny pack tonight. But I totally need it to store my keys and camera during races because my running gear doesn't have pockets. I may also need it for the Ben Gay and false teeth in my near future. I'm a bedazzled sweatshirt and a pair of gold easy spirits away from becoming my grandmother.

Luckily tomorrow is an awesome work-from-home day, so I just have to wake up and pick up my laptop. No shower required! It's been a very productive day, wipeouts and arguments notwithstanding.

Let's all get some sleep now, shall we? I'm slumber party giddy and punch drunk.