Ha. Goddamn.

Here's another thing that happened (no, I don't want to go to bed and no, you are not the boss of me): I forgot my age.

Yeah. Michael and I were talking about something and I was maintaining that I was 31. I'm not. I'm 32. I had no idea how old I was. I am my father's daughter.

Also? I am losing five to ten pounds because I've looked at some photos of myself and? No. I have a fat face to begin with, but this shit is ridiculous. Need to get back in shape and stop eating crap (I just ate a disgusting amount of honeyed almonds).

Right. That's about all I have at this particular junction.

I should really, really, really go to bed.

Did I mention I have to run 12 miles on Sunday? That's almost a half marathon. I mean, WTF? I'm going to have a heart attack. I may go out with the half marathoners: they're only doing 7 miles. It just seems a bit of a big run given that we have FOUR MONTHS TO GO.

They're sadists, the people that run my clinic.