Recovery

What, you may ask, do I need to recover from? Have I been ill or had major surgery? Was I in some sort of accident or the victim of a crime?

No, no, none of these things. I just had a rough morning. And by rough I mean it was actually not bad at all, except for an untimely roach incident before running a 5k in the cold rain. But as this is my blog, I have the freedom to be as dramatic as I want. (If you have a problem with that I suggest you get your own blog where you are free to be as realistic and un-dramatic as you want.)

I personally believe there should be some sort of rule about roaches jumping out of your nightstand and running around on your bed (thank goodness I was not in it) when your husband is not there to deal with it. I ran around the house screaming for a while, but that did not seem to accomplish much, so I eventually had to kill it myself. And because of that I am terrified to open my toilet all day in case it managed to resurrect itself from the dead and swim back through the sewers to my house for revenge.

Because of all the commotion I was unable to eat breakfast and was 10 minutes late to pick Sara up for our race, which means we were 10 minutes late getting to the parking area, which means I was REALLY annoyed when the parking lady sweetly told me that there were no more parking spaces for runners. I thought of the many replies I could offer as I surveyed the vast, empty grocery store parking lot and wondered how this was possible as only eight cars were parked there, but instead I kept my mouth shut and drove us through the pouring rain to a parking garage a mile from the start line.

We parked and ran to the start line, grabbed our timing chips, and joined the other runners just in time for the starting gun to go off. At this point we were very close to just bailing all together and heading to Chick-fil-a, but it was too late and we got swept up in the crowd of too many runners on too narrow a road shoving each other along the course. Luckily the rain had slowed, but it was still cold and I spent a good portion of my run wedged up against a man who reeked of beer at 8:45 a.m. I realize this was a St. Patty's race, but seriously people.

We finished, I felt sick (remember, no breakfast this morning), walked a mile in the cold back to the car and went home.

Which brings me to my present state: showered, warm, sitting on the couch, drinking hot chocolate and trying to convince myself that there are people worse off than me and I should really get up and vacuum. But first can I please come over and use your bathroom?