Struggling

This week has been difficult; I did make it to the gym Monday after work but haven't been back since. Tuesday night I cooked all night for the next day (quiches for the Ronald McDonald House breakfast and cupcakes for a birthday at work) so no exercise; the last night I was so exhausted from being up late the night before and early that same morning that I could barely function. Then I slept a whopping 2 hours last night. So that means my drive for the gym is not looking good for tonight. I am holding steady to the weight from the week before San Diego which I consider pretty fantastic given the fact of eating out 3 meals a day and the ridiculous amount of alcohol that gets consumed out there.

I know I'm going to the gym tomorrow night; Peter has an appointment at 5 pm with a trainer. I am thinking of going home and doing chores tonight, and then they will be done for the weekend. I think what little energy I have will be better used that way than if I go to the gym; I think I might run out even before the halfway point of an easy workout.

And Amy's crazy dream inspired me to share two (of many) I had in San Diego.

Dream 1: I woke up the first morning with a terrible start; I heard a loud noise and I couldn't find Harry in bed. I had been dreaming that Oprah had sneaked into our bedroom (which is where we were in my head) and turned our alarm clock off so that we'd be late. And looking for Harry...yeah...he was back in MD. After I woke Peter up, he grumpily said "We're in San Diego in a hotel, go back to sleep!"

Dream 2: I had this long, involved dream that we were going away for a week and staying in a hotel, but that you had to ship yourself your bed to have somewhere to sleep at this hotel. Best part: I had written out the shipping label to 611 Forest St, Omaha, Nebraska. Peter googled the address and it is a chimney sweep.