Three Whole Hours!
I’m now up to three hours on the bike for the month of March, you guys*! Can you believe it?! (This paragraph, by the way, will be most effective if you channel the spirit of classic Homestar Runner skits. MARZIPAN!!!!!!!!!!)
Okay, okay, so it’s only the sixth, and that adds up to either half an hour a day every day of the month or one hour a day three days thus far (which is actually more accurate) … so it’s really not that bad. In fact, it’s 300% better than my stats looked at the beginning of this week! …Or something like that. I’m a little hazy on that sort of thing right now, which is probably unfortunate, because I need to go do more math homework (it seems that these days I am always either practicing the organ or doing math homework, even though I am a psychology major, people!).
Beyond trumpeting about my triumphant THREE WHOLE HOURS ON THE BIKE ZOMG!!!!!1!!!1!oneoneone, I really have nothing else constructive to say. I’m about halfway done with my long-promised review of the Tricross, which should really just read, “Go sell whatever it takes — firstborn, kidney, whatever — and buy a Specialized Tricross Disc Comp; you won’t regret it.” (I would say, “And tell ‘em I sent you!” but they’d be like, “Uh … who?”) Mostly, I’m just procrastinating (because I only have like 7 math problems to go, and if I start them now, how can I guarantee that it will take me ’til the Last Possible Minute — 11:59 EST tonight, that is — to finish?).
As you can tell, I’m happy to be riding my bike again. There’s something going around that people (just to infuriate me) are calling the “Australian Stomach Flu,” which drives me batty because THERE IS NO SUCH THING AS THE STOMACH FLU. Influenza is a respiratory infection, people! RESPIRATORY. Sometimes you get nauseated if you swallow too much phlegm, but that’s about the extent of its gastrointestinal impact. Besides, why are we blaming the Australians? Considering the epic fires and floods down under, they’ve got it hard enough right now without Middle America deciding to blame a massive epic puking outbreak on them.
I don’t have the Australasian Gut Rhinovirus, however, as evidenced by the fact that I just sucked down a bowl of Campbell’s Chunky “Not As Horrible For You” soup and am now ravenously hungry. I should’ve just not eaten, because I wasn’t hungry until I ate. Except, you know, I suppose I’m supposed to not starving myself because race on Saturday. Meh.
I guess I’m out of stuff to babble about. So I guess I’ll call it a night, quit procrastinating, and go do my math homework. I got up early this morning to scrape my husband’s windshield for him (partly because I love him and partly because it’s my fault that the car and the truck now live outdoors all the time, since the garage is full of organs — the musical kind; I’m not opening a black-market kidney store just yet — and bikes). I’m hoping this means I’ll be able to sleep at a reasonable hour again. We’ve been developing a regular pattern of being asleep by about 10:30ish, and I’m only spending about one night a week now up ’til ridiculous hours (usually after falling asleep, then waking up again).
Yup. That’s it. I got nothin’.
Rubber side down!
*That’s gender-neutral guys, people.