This morning Fenton and I noticed that our clothes were a wee bit tighter than they were before we embarked on the Christmas break – I imagine this is a direct result of not leaving the house terribly much & children who resemble little locusts (and we can’t just let them constantly graze on everything remotely edible in the haus without getting in on the action, can we?)
So after giving it some though, I decided I was going to do something about it. Because as much as I would (desperately) like it to, sitting around the haus is not going to make me skinnier. So I thought: self, what can I do without putting in much *effort*? Well, I could stop pigging out on the work biscuits, I could drink more water, I could eat lunch (instead of pigging out on the work biscuits) and I could, *gulp*, walk home. It’s not *that* far. Probably about 30-45 minutes brisk walk, depending on the route. When I first started at batshitcrazyorg, I walked to & from work for the first couple giftage for Nancy, Bess & Joe/Frank *and* train fare (ahhhh, poverty).
So today was going to be the day, because in a stunning display of self-awareness, I decided that if I didn’t do it today, I never would. So I bought a healthy sandwich for lunch and sat in Hyde Park with the magazine I bought (which will be the subject of another entry). I drank lots of water.
All was going swimmingly until The Walk Home. In typical Mrs Hardly fashion, I picked the hottest day of the year so far and I walked the longest route – though Woolloomoolo via The Domain and up the Stairs Of Doom. When I arrived at Potts Point, I figured while I was up there, I really should pick up some groceries at Woolies, and hell, why don’t I just buy a big motherfscking fan while I’m there? Because it is a really hot day. I then proceeded to lug what seemed to be 800kg home down the hill.
All this unprecidented exercise had the effect of me making me feel nauseous and shaky and weak. So weak that I could barely lift the frying pan when cooking the Hardly evening meal.
I have been mentally composing a blog entry about the magazine I bought for the first time today. By very strange co-incidence, the lovely anyresemblance plans to blog about the namesake of the magazine. However, I think it will hurt my arms to turn the pages to have a proper look through it (although at first glance it looks like a blatant martha rip-off1) and I really need to shower and nap, oh and whinge about my pain. A lot.
1although, from all accounts, the majority of Martha’s ideas aren’t exactly orginial.