It's 2014. I'm not entirely sure where 2013 went, exactly, but I may have been a bit dazed through most of it. You will have more traction driving at -20 Celsius than you will at 0 to -5. Unless the intersections are polished up by all those people in two-wheel drive pick-ups without winter tires. I don't think that that last sentence was a sentence.
I have to work tomorrow. Sometimes I think that I don't want to go. Most of the time, I don't really want to go. I do love my job, but I have more fun at home. Unless K1 is terrorizing K2. Or me. Mostly, K1 is awesome, and very helpful, like tonight when he helped me clean up the mess by washing everything with the dirty rag that was initially used to wipe up the yogurt drink that he dribbled all over the floor while running around with the container (empty, except for the dregs) upside down, right after I said something along the lines of please don't carry that upside down or you'll dribble--argh! Then I said to get a cloth, and I wet it for him (easy because I was doing dishes at the time) and he did wipe up all the dribbles and then the stove and the walls or something, and the garbage can in the kitchen. I think really he was avoiding going to bed because every time that I mentioned that it's bed time he cleaned more stuff. Where was I going with this. Right. Mostly K1 is awesome, but sometimes he's three. Well, he's three every day, because he's three. But sometimes he's three.
I'm tired of candy and chocolate. I know, I know, what the fuck is wrong with me? I mean really? I'm actually craving salads for lunches at work. Salads. And, I want to work out at lunchtime, too. Am I that sick of sugar? Or do I just really hate how fat I am? Yes to the first, and no to the second, but only because the second is the wrong question. I just hate how out of shape I am. I mean, I did 5 minutes on the rowing machine, then 5 on the bike, then ten, maybe, on the treadmill. I thought I was going to die. Or be killed by my mutinous legs. How sad is that?
I can see parts of my desk. Not all of it, and there's enough to write on, especially if I get rid of the singing snowmen, but it's not as bad or as good as it could be. Speaking of singing snowmen, it's really time to pack up the Christmas stuff. Not now though. Now, it's bed time.
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