This morning a graying old lady in the pool locker room observes the gear, bags and other crap I have spread across the locker room bench and says, “Doesn’t that drive you crazy?”
It isn’t the first time someone has commented on how much stuff I have. Rather than chew her out, I feel somewhat dismayed by the whole thing, and agree with her. “I know, I know,” I say. “How do you do it?”
She looks like Ms. Organized. How can she fit all of her fitness stuff into the ice-cube shaped locker? I must look so helpless because she says to me, “You’ll get it, I’m sure the next time I see you, you’ll get it.”
Arriving one molecule at a time is tough work. Lately it’s been lethargy, lethargy, exhaustion. Could it be the winter?
Last night a dinner of ice cream and cake, cheese and a bagel.
This morning three outfits were changed, lots of web surfing, sucked into napster and almost impulse-purchased another tune. Lately it’s been about impulse and feeling, and fending off feeling tired. I’ve been sleeping like a pig.
