being ill is fucking tedious and now my brain is punishing me
I decided I wasn't ill any more because I've been ill for five days and that's long enough (also I felt okay and continued to feel okay all the way to the gym). I proceeded to have a goddamn AWFUL run despite keeping the spend low enough that it was practically a jog, and my idiot MP3 player crapped out halfway (condensation from the case got into the controls and made it think I was constantly trying to adjust the volume, thereby making it impossible for me to play anything). Post-run things went alright; I got straight to the barbells and managed a wobbly but acceptable set-of-sets at 40kg (88lbs), then got straight to the lat machine and did some likewise unimpressive but technically existing set-of-sets at 45kg (100lbs), both of which are improvements on pre-sickness turnouts.
Being of a practical bent I limited myself after this to a) leg raises (still horrible), b) the chest press (which I didn't get the chance to return to during last pre-sickness workout so it was nagging in my mind), some leisurely rowing (took me 7 fucking minutes to get to 80kcal and normally it takes just over 5), skipped cross trainer because of dead mp3 player which would have made it boring and annoying, planked, threw in some press-ups for variety (baaaaad ones), then sat on the blasted bike for ten minutes. Againm boredom without music prevailed there as much as anything. Also, the Whey2Go sachets were as predictably repellent as everything else which is basically 100% protein.
It took a stupid amount of time to recover, then I humped myself back down to the supermarket (via the charity shop: it is spring and we are FINALLY clearing the piles and piles and piles and piles and piles of unwanted clothing/books etc) and hobbled home with Too Much Weight and then uh, went back to sleep for two hours after lunch...
Over-siesta'd, groggy, filled with dreams that were a hilarious overdose of Everything Bad We Could Think Of That Was Even Vaguely Plausible (thanks for reminding me of the shitty psycho boss I had literally more than a decade ago, I sure wanted to be frustrated by her to the point of violence), then stuck in Panic Mode: Subtype PARANOIA, I still managed to sort out the binders I'm meant to be mailing out, go to the goddamn supermarket AGAIN, and, as of just now, transfer more edit notes and churn out more of Liza's Kapoople fic.
For reference, the things I am trying to plug away at writing wise:
+ Moving edit notes / applying some edit notes to Heavy
+ Liza's silly Renaissance Kapoople fic
+ Dali's Masochism Essay (the deadline has helpfully been removed)
+ Re-order/tidy/rewrite various bits of the Outline for Tourist's Guide etc so I have a better idea of what I'm dealing with and hopefully add some more stuff.
Of course I'm now cocking well exhausted still (my legs: like noodles) and for some reason have a burn on my elbow? And Lindsay has passed out even though he was supposed to be bleaching my hair. Hey fucking ho fucking Monday.
Being of a practical bent I limited myself after this to a) leg raises (still horrible), b) the chest press (which I didn't get the chance to return to during last pre-sickness workout so it was nagging in my mind), some leisurely rowing (took me 7 fucking minutes to get to 80kcal and normally it takes just over 5), skipped cross trainer because of dead mp3 player which would have made it boring and annoying, planked, threw in some press-ups for variety (baaaaad ones), then sat on the blasted bike for ten minutes. Againm boredom without music prevailed there as much as anything. Also, the Whey2Go sachets were as predictably repellent as everything else which is basically 100% protein.
It took a stupid amount of time to recover, then I humped myself back down to the supermarket (via the charity shop: it is spring and we are FINALLY clearing the piles and piles and piles and piles and piles of unwanted clothing/books etc) and hobbled home with Too Much Weight and then uh, went back to sleep for two hours after lunch...
Over-siesta'd, groggy, filled with dreams that were a hilarious overdose of Everything Bad We Could Think Of That Was Even Vaguely Plausible (thanks for reminding me of the shitty psycho boss I had literally more than a decade ago, I sure wanted to be frustrated by her to the point of violence), then stuck in Panic Mode: Subtype PARANOIA, I still managed to sort out the binders I'm meant to be mailing out, go to the goddamn supermarket AGAIN, and, as of just now, transfer more edit notes and churn out more of Liza's Kapoople fic.
For reference, the things I am trying to plug away at writing wise:
+ Moving edit notes / applying some edit notes to Heavy
+ Liza's silly Renaissance Kapoople fic
+ Dali's Masochism Essay (the deadline has helpfully been removed)
+ Re-order/tidy/rewrite various bits of the Outline for Tourist's Guide etc so I have a better idea of what I'm dealing with and hopefully add some more stuff.
Of course I'm now cocking well exhausted still (my legs: like noodles) and for some reason have a burn on my elbow? And Lindsay has passed out even though he was supposed to be bleaching my hair. Hey fucking ho fucking Monday.