I'm back in it. After fighting the flu for a week and a half, I finally had enough energy to get a little exercise in with my girl, JoJo, this morning. An hour and twenty minutes of running and walking, to be precise. The weather's beautiful, so in spite of my coughing and snottiness, I made it. I'm hoping the exertion will alleviate some of the OCD symptoms with which I've presented over the last few days. I have no idea where that's coming from. But the way I understand it, OCD is a coping mechanism for anxiety. And I'm flush with that. So I need to focus on reducing it. It's kinda like insomnia, though. Thinking about it just exacerbates the problem.
That reminds me. I have vivid memories of Kiddo standing on the pitcher's mound (or in the batter's box), with a fucking-miscreant excuse for a coach hollering, "Just relax, Eight!" That was his jersy number. You might think that would sound like encouragement, but you'd have to hear it. Think about a marine drill seargent trying to get his grunts to ring the bell. You know what they say... Winning isn't everything. It's the only thing.
Oops. My timer is buzzing. Which means it's time to put my canned goods in alphabetical order. Then my spices.
Later...
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