I need to write a book

about myself, for my self to read. One page will say “Symptom: I don’t feel like exercising. Diagnosis: I’m sick!”

All last week I didn’t feel like walking or even doing my stretching exercises. I called myself a bunch of names (lazy! wimp!) and blamed it on the weather. When I finally couldn’t stand up any longer and heard my teeth chattering, I figured it out. I wasn’t lazy, I was sick.

I love to exercise! I love to be outside, cold or not! How come I forgot that? What’s with the name calling? Internalized jr. high P.E. teachers?

And I don’t really understand how I mixed up my internal weather with the actual real outside weather. And I’m still doing it. Last night I felt better and completely forgot the cold outside, and didn’t cover up my poor little lemon tree. This morning it’s under 30 degrees. I hope my tree hasn’t fallen victim to my crazy glasspineapple-centric view of the universe.

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2 Comments on “I need to write a book”


  1. hope your little lemon tree is ok. I feel bad for not playing with my guinea pig everyday, cause some days my migraines are commanding all my attention.

  2. Christy Says:

    I think the tree is okay. It looks okay. I’ll bet your guinea pig loves you anyway. I am probably inheriting a rat from my college-bound daughter, so my rat says Merry Christmas! to your guinea pig.


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