I took a four-and-a-half mile run today, after months of slacking–partly because I’ve been living on poppycock and oranges since Christmas, but also because when I retrieved our garbage can from the street, my heart rate went above, like, six beats a minute for the first time in four months and I vaguely remembered how good it feels to do that.
I probably won’t be able to get out of bed tomorrow, but right at this moment I feel like I can think straight for the first time since September.
And I quit, why?
I have a job that consumes my every waking moment.
I really ought to do something about that.