I slept like the dead last night, bundled up in an extra blanket, and not waking up a single time until my phone went off.
I got up, not hitting Snooze or Dismiss because it stopped playing its alarm before I could get to it. Then I went and got a shower to start my day. A few minutes later, I came in here, waiting for the alarm to go off again, but it didn't. I didn't get it until I noticed that I had a missed phone call. And then I saw the time.
Oh, it hadn't been my alarm waking me up, but somebody's wrong number, early in the morning, that was enough to get me out of bed. Funny, I guess. That means last week's record of getting up early on Tuesday, Thursday, Friday, and Saturday might get beaten this week.
Sit-ups Today: 150
Sit-ups In August: 3881
I spoke to my brother on the phone today. We don't talk a lot, but whenever we do, he wants to talk longer than I am prepared for (usually, I just call him coming home from the cabin, and there are long stretches of that drive with no cellphone service).
I think I told you that when I was at the cabin Thursday, I couldn't get the water to drain from the pipes--it just flowed and flowed and flowed out of the manifold, and after more than a half hour, I just left it open and put a note down warning anybody who might be coming that it was still open.
Well, he went up to the cabin on Saturday, and worked on a couple of things, and he told me that the reason the water wasn't draining from the pipes . . .
Wait for it . . .
. . . was because I hadn't shut the water off.
So for three days, it just flowed through the pipes and down through the manifold, where we were emptying it into a drain in the floor. We were tremendously lucky it didn't fill up and flood the entire lower floor of the cabin, actually.
In my brother's defense, he didn't make me feel like too much of a dumbass (he's not my father, after all), saying that the valve must have stuck when I was turning it (my dad would've said I plain forgot to turn it off, and I'd have wondered for years whether he was right or not), and that I needed to make sure it was all the way off the next time. And I usually do, because I turn on the basement sink so that there's air flow through the pipes, and can see the water stop flowing after a minute or two.
Ah well, it could have been worse.
Push-ups In August: 1743
Because it was Monday, which is usually pretty busy for me, I didn't leave a great deal of time for myself to hit the library before it closed (at least it closes at seven instead of six now, though that's not quite like last year, when it closed at nine), but I got it into my head to run over there and see what I could accomplish in an hour.
Last year, around December, I read an article on the internet about a woman who drank a gallon of water a day for a month, and she talked about how much it impacted her life. I was so blown away by the article that, no, I didn't decide to drink a gallon of water a day, but to write a short story about it. Mine would be a parody of what I had read, because the woman's account was so remarkable, that it felt like a slap in the face when she celebrated at the end of the thirty days, knowing she'd never have to drink water again.
So, my story would be about a guy--namely me--who drinks a gallon of water a day* and gains all sorts of spectacular benefits, such as losing weight, becoming more attractive, and gaining five inches of dong in just thirty days.
But I never wrote it. I don't write even a third of the ideas I have, even when I've sketched them out or started them (though my stats have improved in the last couple of years . . . probably 50% now).
But Big Anklevich had been doing his 75 Hard bullshit lately, and had been blogging about it, and complaining not about the ninety minutes of exercise required a day, but about having to read, and worst of all, drink a gallon of water daily. Poor guy.
So, when I noticed him complaining in his blog about it, I decided to go to the library, and write my idea into a little story, in epistolary format--ie, as a blog. I thought I'd even go as far as write it from a female perspective, and get a female narrator to do it for my podcast, even though that meant the aforementioned dong-measuring scenes would have to go.**
I checked out a computer, feeling pretty confident I could do the whole darn story in an hour or less. But I was not only wrong, I only made it to Day 7 (of thirty). It was plenty of words, though, which leads me to believe that this might be a more substantive project than I gave it credit for.
Still super fun to write, though. I think it's because when I write in my blog, it's like a kid writing in his journal, and uses far less energy than the usual fiction writing does. And doing a fake blog is almost as easy. We'll see where this goes, especially since, had the library not closed, I'd have just kept going, maybe until the darn thing was done.
Words Today: 2232
Words In August: 24,549
I also did my evening run, and while it was not quite as miserably cold as the night before, it was still below freezing out. I did my run as best I could, but decided to cut it just a little bit short, turning one block earlier than I usually turn, which my math told me would lower the run from 1.6 miles to 1.4. I was able to hold my head up high, though, because I knew I hadn't made it that far the night before, and had turned back a couple of blocks earlier than tonight.
EXCEPT . . . I ended up running past the same lit-up Halloween decoration house in the middle of the block that I had passed the night before, telling me, no, I had turned back at the exact same moment the night before. In other words, I'm not tougher today than I was yesterday. I'm no better than you are, darn it.
*I have found, over the last 48 hours, that I cannot spell "gallon" to save my life. I always--ALWAYS--spell it "galoon," and then have to change it. ALWAYS.
**Can I just substitute Day 17's wiener extension with boobs? Would that work?
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