Rest days continue to be Catholic bullshit
I took one anyway, for no real reason other than I felt a bit dead when I got up; Lindsay of course readily assented. This will be a problem tomorrow when I have to gym AND go to a dance class but I think ultimately that just means I have to rejig what else I'm doing during the day.
Today, in the absence of spending a further hour and a half to two hours dans le gym (don't fucking ask me how that keeps happening, and don't worry I am factoring in the ten minute walk in either direction) I got start on editing Heavy, so that I feel vaguely productive, and gussied up Liza's grant application thing so that I felt vaguely helpful, and bought more groceries, so that I felt vaguely horrified because my local supermarket has placed a literal embargo on people buying more than three heads of broccoli per person? I don't need three heads of broccoli at once and all but w h a t. Oh, and I had an unintentionally vegan dinner (Quorn "chicken" fillets are wonderfully low-calorie and nothing like chicken whatsoever. They're just sort of ... matter. It's okay.), so I can feel vaguely virtuous.
Still trying to figure out a way of phrasing "anti-Semites still don't deserve spousal abuse" that isn't going to lead to Tumblr fights. Two Wrongs Don't Make A Right? Or just "she's not getting abused by someone who is affected by her bigotry but by someone who is furthering it/driving it". IDK. Maybe that's enough.
Work is still ghastly, of course. Without the energising influence of gyming this morning I feel exceptionally dead and cannot muster the energy or enthusiasm to choke out my evening contribution to Liza's silly story nor to even bother reading more of my dumb weird history book. I am necking posh-ish coffee in the hopes of achieving some semblance of life but I fear it may be necessary to, instead, build a funeral pyre. Also I have a headache.
Today, in the absence of spending a further hour and a half to two hours dans le gym (don't fucking ask me how that keeps happening, and don't worry I am factoring in the ten minute walk in either direction) I got start on editing Heavy, so that I feel vaguely productive, and gussied up Liza's grant application thing so that I felt vaguely helpful, and bought more groceries, so that I felt vaguely horrified because my local supermarket has placed a literal embargo on people buying more than three heads of broccoli per person? I don't need three heads of broccoli at once and all but w h a t. Oh, and I had an unintentionally vegan dinner (Quorn "chicken" fillets are wonderfully low-calorie and nothing like chicken whatsoever. They're just sort of ... matter. It's okay.), so I can feel vaguely virtuous.
Still trying to figure out a way of phrasing "anti-Semites still don't deserve spousal abuse" that isn't going to lead to Tumblr fights. Two Wrongs Don't Make A Right? Or just "she's not getting abused by someone who is affected by her bigotry but by someone who is furthering it/driving it". IDK. Maybe that's enough.
Work is still ghastly, of course. Without the energising influence of gyming this morning I feel exceptionally dead and cannot muster the energy or enthusiasm to choke out my evening contribution to Liza's silly story nor to even bother reading more of my dumb weird history book. I am necking posh-ish coffee in the hopes of achieving some semblance of life but I fear it may be necessary to, instead, build a funeral pyre. Also I have a headache.