I Hate Sundays

They are boring. Boring boring boring. And I am mad at my husband so there is no conversation right now.

I graded a bunch of student submissions, fixed lunch for tomorrow, got my stuff ready for my green smoothie in the morning, fixed the coffee pot for the morning, did laundry, vacuumed (of course), went to see Dad for Father's Day, and I guess I should iron some things that need it but I hate ironing and I would rather passive-aggressively get my hubby to do it for me. When I am speaking to him again, that is.

I went to RRRC.com and made a list of Fall/Winter races I could run. I want to run races....I like the whole idea of it, the bling, the t-shirts, the feeling of belonging to something athletic...but I can't run in the white hot heat of the summer. I will crack my head on the pavement in no time if I even try.

I didn't do the Shred yesterday because I felt light-headed. I am not running today because I am so freaking tired from sweating all night and going months now with little to no sleep. I took a sleeping pill at about 2am this morning because I was frustrated and I knew that I didn't have to get up this morning at any certain time. So, I am not running today. I have to go to the office tomorrow and then go see patients so I will get home late and not be able to work out again tomorrow. That will be 3 DOR's and I feel bad about it but not bad enough to get up and torture myself post-sleeping-pill today.

I suck.

I hate Sundays. Knowing you have to go to work tomorrow. Boring. It's hot and humid here and rained last night and it's icky. Sunday TV is boring. Golf, Ultimate Fighting, Golf, NASCAR, COPS, old movie, old movie, Golf, more racing, more fighting ick ick ick. Gag me. Put me out of my misery. Ew.

I have two frogs under my porch. They made a hole right under the bottom step and at first I thought it was one frog until I saw two little faces peering out at me. They come out now and then and they are pretty stupid. I need to get them little helmets before my dogs crush their little amphibian skulls. They are ugly. I think they are two gay men frogs who have dug a hole under my porch and they are living in their little condo under my porch. I named them Fred and Frank. They are super gay. They wear little polo shirts and have 4 popped collars a piece. Not really. But in my ultra-hormoned-out brain I like to think of them wearing 4 popped collars a piece and cooking stuff like lamb chops and risotto and drinking red wine. In their little hole under my porch.

I am so tired. I should go lie down. Why? So I can sweat?

I'm waiting for this estrogen pill to go to work. The magic estrogen pill that my hubby, who I am not talking to, got me a prescription for from the surgeon that he works with the other day. The surgeon is my doctor's partner and somewhere in the magical mixture of this hell I'm living she forgot that I need to be on an estrogen replacement while I'm on this shot. Let's hear it for Osteoporosis and hysterical hormone shifts, everybody!

I am Jen's hormone-fueled rage from out of nowhere. I am Jen's psychotic break.

This really sucks. Wanting to work out, in the brain, but the body saying, "No. No you idiot. Did you not hear me? No." That sucks. I want to want to workout but I don't want to. I am tired.

If I had some friends nearby I would call and see if they wanted to do something. No, I wouldn't. I said that to sound normal. I would not call them. All my friends live about 40 miles away. No one lives in this hell hole. No one that I want to hang out with, anyway. What's a friend anyway? I don't have time for friends.

Eh. I'm tired. I don't want to be so tired. I need a nap. However, I don't want to take a nap. I hate that feeling when you wake up and you are like, "What day is it?! I'm late! No....I'm early....wait, what time is it?!" So, yeah. No nap.

I freaking hate Sundays. Especially this one.