Ergo, the Ego and the Ergot


This Kayla is a petulant sort of girl, it seems.  All day long we commented – because this is the thing that people of our age give shits about – how the storm had not fully presented itself as per the weather reports.  We were supposed to get knocked on our asses with snow.   It snowed, but didn’t stick until just now as we were leaving work.

It is hard to say at the moment if the snow will keep us out of the office tomorrow or not.  I have my opinions, but it’s up to ol’ Kayla to help me out.   We’ll see, I suppose.

In the interim, I have to get up and put my bones on the bike and do that late night stationary biking that is both good for me and bubbly for my brain.  I’m already a touch perked and giddy because of the Moscow Mule at dinner.

Dinner.  We went to Old Chicago…which means we walked over through the intensifying but still ambivalent snowfall over to the restaurant from the house after work.  I was, actually, quite grateful for a couple different things.  Their website is great because you can put in exactly what you order – in exact detail and it gives you the nutritional info.  You don’t have to monkey around and estimate and assume and enter the wrong thing and double-check yourself in horror to realize you did in fact eat 2000 calories in one meal.  Which, according to their website, you could fall over chair in there and get 2000 calories in your mouth.  Still, Knowledge! This is why I was able to order the pizza I ordered and if I get my ass on the bike, still be under for the day.  That, and being too bogged down with the finally happening work situation that started today to eat much of anything.   That left enough room to justify one small pizza and some booze.  A little Moscow Mule in the little copper cup that tasted delicious and tart and made me feel as though it was possible to soften against the sharp edges of the world and slide down into myself without a fight.

And wonder of wonders, after eating that, I am just hungry enough to eat a clementine and drink some water and don’t feel as though I need to savage the heavens for not allowing me just a hundred more calories to eat garbage with.   Should we have had vegetables and boiled chicken.  Probably.  But there was some release and control at the same time tonight and I feel proud of both aspects.

It is odd.  It is 3 pounds and a month away from where I started.  By any scale, that is not all that much.  It is not visible, but at the same time, it is not invisible.  I feel better.  I feel like I’m working on something good.  Is it the same as any other attempt?  That, I don’t know.  I just feel willing right now to do more than nothing.

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