VENI, VIDI, COMEDIT...

It’s been a few days since my last writing. I’m finding it harder to write without being redundant, and I’m getting bored with the whole damn thing. I’m still doing it, mind you, but boooooooooooooring. My blood sugar post-fair has been hanging around 105, which is great, almost back to pre-diabetes! In the meantime, I’m getting so f***ing tired of eating the same food; Caesar salads, in particular. Like “I’ve eaten so many Caesar salads, I should be subjugating the Gauls.” Or “I’ve eaten so many Caesar salads, I should be wearing a wreath of laurels.”

An unpleasant side effect of all this is that I don’t really look forward to meals anymore. I have to think about it too much, so when dinner comes and it’s just one stupid course, and I don’t follow it up with some delicious dessert, it’s just depressing. Even though the food I eat is generally tasty, the limitations I’ve placed on myself make it harder to come up with interesting stuff I can eat. (Coming off my brother and sister-in-law’s epic cooking doesn’t help either.)

I want MAC & CHEESE. I want a hot dog – in a BUN. I want BACON and PANCAKES. I need to find some more variety, but without bread, pasta, rice, or sugar. Keine Problem! This game is no longer fun. I’m taking my ball and going home.

I’m not, of course. I'm still plugging away, and I’ve added a 5 am half-hour fast walk to my regimen. I hate getting up that early, but once I’m dressed and out, I love it, because it’s peaceful, quiet, and relatively painless. I may have to find some other way to exercise this winter, as we here in New England are expecting Winter 2015 Redux, and won’t that just be the worst? As a fatassmatic betcha didn't know that was a word walking outside when it's 15 degrees is something I really look forward to!

We have a treadmill in our basement. Unfortunately, our basement smells like a freshly opened tomb in the summer months and a musty, if dry, storage closet in the winter. I’m pretty sure breathing normally down there is a bad idea at any time, and exerting one’s self to the point of elevated breathing is a really bad idea. But if we move the treadmill into our living room, there’ll be no room for the cats or anything else. If we move it into the garage, the resident mice will no doubt set up shop, happily chewing through several hundred dollars of wiring. What to do?

Maybe the dining room. It’s not like we use it with any regularity. Won’t that just be amusingly ironic, burning calories in the room whose special and particular purpose is for the consuming of calories? We wouldn't have to move it until Thanksgiving.

Damn! Why did I have to mention Thanksgiving?