As I previously ranted, I've decided that January doesn't count. Its an un-month, a liminal space between one year ending and another crawling out of bed in search of coffee. So I'm not going to beat myself up for my utterly pathetic lack of, well, anything last month.
And I'm not going to beat myself up about the utter lack of anything last week either. In fact, my bruised and whimpering inner punk is slicing off a huge slice of slack.
My stupid, inbuilt guilt, the force that drives me to show up to work sick, walk to work when not fully recovered and preform a plethora of other stupid activities is going to go away. Simple as that.
Now, this doesn't mean I'm giving up on the whole working-out-getting-in-shape-doing-something-interesting-with-my- life thing. It just means that I'm going to actually use some of the wisdom that comes with my ever-increasing age and do it right! Yeah! Hu-ha!
In other words...I'm taking the bus to work this morning.
See what I mean about inbuilt-guilt?
An entire paragraph to convince myself that its OK to bus to work while recovering from a nasty 'flu instead of slogging through the frozen tundra of Rvk in an attempt to flatten my thirty-year-old bumba...jeez...
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