And Then It Was Monday

Hi, kids. We haven’t had a catch-up chat for a while, have we?
I’d love to have something brilliant to write for you today. Really. I got nothing. So you can leave now if it’s profundity you seek. For you, good lasses and sirs, I offer a serving of vapidity.
See, I spent my whole weekend huffing Lysol, questing to kill bugs, and doing one of the deepest apartment cleans ever (but there’s still more work to do — the storage unit, cleaning the oven… does it ever end?). Mental faculties? Not so much.
I do, however, have a faint eau de sterilized green apple Lysol-ly scent wafting off me this morning. I’m fresh AND germ-free! And I think I still hear braincells popping off to their chemically-induced deaths in the back of my cerebellum. “No, Lenny! Don’t jump! The air’s clearing, really!”
Curse you, bugs, for the damage thou hath wrought upon me!
And despite wanting to turtle naked and lazily under my blankie as the warm sun beats down on me in bed as the should-be ease of this day washes over me, the reality is, I’m pretty close to hopping on my bike to suffer another 45 minutes of labour as I moan and groan my way up the steep-ass hills of this town on my way in to what will finally be some PAID work. For seven hours. Followed by more cycling.
Today could well be the last hot day of the year. Hopefully not. But it’d be wrong to let it pass by without sucking the marrow from it and enjoying every last bead of sweat I can muster out of this late-season gift .
My “kicking ass and taking names” summer became derailed after July 17th, when I came down with bad bronchitis that kept me from cardio for nearly a month. I had one valiant week then where I cycled four times in mid-August, but then I got insomnia, where I had 40 hours sleep in about 15 nights, followed by a week at work with overtime. Needless to say, I haven’t found my rhythm in weeks.
I did get a good cycling week in last week but had aimed for four days of it, but saw Mr. Cockroach on Thursday night and resolved to do the Molly Maid/Rambo thing this weekend instead. Again, derailed. Three’s good, though, and I can make this week a second in a row.
It’s Monday now, a whole new week, and no matter how much it kills me, it’s on, baby. Music’s recharging, cycle bag’s packed, sun’s stoking the fire. It’s a great day for it.
I found myself thinking a lot about when I did a cleaning frenzy like this in March, though, when I totally gutted and cleaned my place, and resolved to spend the next six months being very active. I did a pretty good job of it — the cleaning and the six months. So I found myself perceiving my weekend as a setting of the stage upon which the next six months of life will unfold.
It’s a pretty great way to get perspective on blowing away one of the nicest sunny September weekends I ever recall in Vancouver.
Vancouver, for those who don’t know, vacillates between a sunshiney Eden and the downpours of the most urban rainforest in the world. Surrounded by impressive mountains yielding insane snowboarding within 10 minutes of downtown, the local geography hems in any rainclouds — the weather amassed from the long journey over the Pacific, usually up from Hawaii, falls down on this often-soggy urban jewel before the clouds weaken and leave the for the Prairies, which will be left arid, on their travels eastward. “September” is often something not to be banked upon in this town — make sure your travel agent knows. Summer ostensibly ends August 25th because the rain can come early and hard, and stay for months. If you think that’s writerly hyperbole, then go look up the definition of “temperate rainforest”, by which should be a picture of southwest British Columbia.
Today? Sunny and 24/80 degrees. Tomorrow, a little cooler. By Thursday, rain. Will sun return? A Vancouverite never knows. Hope, however, we collectively practice.
So, today I ride. Carpe diem.
I’m consciously getting my game back on over the next couple weeks. My 35th birthday’s on the 29th. You should donate a birthday gift to my PayPal account so I can buy some wine and panties. Priorities being what they are and all. πŸ™‚
Love your blogger! Feed her! Get her drunk! One reader claims to be sending me BDSM toys. I say, bring it on!
I do digress! Anyhow. Dating: I actually have more men in the wings these days, about four or five, and with this great late September weather, I’m not interested in dating at all. I want to get my mojo back, feel like I’m back on my path to fitness. But the question is, can I string ’em along? Should I? Dare I? Usually doesn’t work well. But perhaps I’m not the only one not wanting to squander these last days of summer.
It’s a shame I’ve forsaken such a blissful 48 hours in one of the most beautiful cities in the world. But I feel like this place I’m in this morning, this verge I’m on with what seems to be another exciting chapter of life about to unfold, is a place I’d have gladly paid money to get to. Instead, admission was a fevered weekend of cleaning. C’est la vie.
And if you’re wondering where I’m at with weight? No clue. I don’t care. Once I’m back on path, I’ll check it out. I don’t feel like I’ve gained or lost. I think I’m in limbo. Considering all the chorizo and goat’s cheese I enjoyed on the weekend, “limbo” has been working for me. πŸ™‚
Happy Monday, y’all. Why don’t you, too, try to suck the marrow out of your day in some way? Take five to do something you deserve. Life’s too fucking short. Even on Mondays.
PS: Unfortunately, people really are THIS stupid.

6 thoughts on “And Then It Was Monday

  1. Cynthia Dalton

    What about a fitness date? Go cycling and have a pinic. Or play tennis outside. This would sort out the men who wouldn’t be supportive of your health plan quickly too.

  2. TachaΓ©

    I love the green apple smell… doesnt seem so toxic in comparison to the others.. they make my house smell like a hospital.

  3. Invisible G.

    Sigh, unfortunately human beings are that stupid. Again, another perfect argument towards mandatory licensing for would be parents. A province called Idiocracy may arise soon. Hopefully they’re dumb enough to attempt separation from Canada.

    I’m with Cynthia – an active date is a grand idea. You’ll fulfill a dual purpose, scope out potential mates, and stick to your fitness goals. See? I’m commenting, but where are you? All I see are scorpions and tumbleweed on my blog. πŸ˜›

    PS – all kidding aside, commenting is only required if you like the words. Otherwise, we can keep our relationship one-sided for now.

  4. Scribe Called Steff

    Edson-Dias–
    Thnx. They take credit cards too. πŸ˜‰

    Cynthia–
    Yeah, but I had 10 dates in August and I’m just fucking fed up with it right now, I have to get on page physically for ME. I’m just not in the headspace to date this week, I just don’t care about men this week. I don’t know. I don’t. πŸ™‚

    I’ll get around to it.

    Tachae–
    I normally try to do enviro-cleaning. I use vinegar+water for counters and stuff, and a baking soda scrubbing compound from Superstore, both of which are non-toxic, biodegradable, and don’t hurt my lungs.

    But, considering BUGS, I just wanted to be extremely thorough to know I was killing everything. I’ll use Lysol for the next month, then go back to my enviro stuff and just occasionally spray with chemicals. Very, very occasionally.

    InvisiGirl–
    That’s because I typically don’t even read blogs. I used to, a long time ago, but my job doesn’t allow for websurfing and shit, and I just don’t read a lot other than my news sites. Trying to change my behaviour. You may see me yet! πŸ™‚

  5. Scribe Called Steff

    InvisiGirl:

    BUT, FYI, the best way to get readers and commenters on YOUR blog is by reading and commenting on others. Back when I started my blogs, that’s how I got a readership… then I got lazy. πŸ˜›

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