Friday, July 27, 2012
I went out of town last week, for a big family reunion to celebrate my dad's birthday. My sisters and their families stayed with my parents, so we had a total of 15 people packed into a 2-bedroom house and two RVs for most of a week. Meals were whatever could be made in mass quantities, cheap, and I really didn't feel that I could cook something special for myself. So it was a week of chili and sloppy Joes and ham on white bread, potato salad, and way too many sweets. And I only ran once because timing a shower afterwards was a trick.
And by the middle of the week, I stopped tracking. I have tracked every day for six years, but now I have a four-day gap. I might still go back and try to fill it in from memory, but I'm pretty sure I don't want to know how much JUNK I ate those days!
Now I'm home, but I've got just over a week to pack everything up, host a yard sale, and move. I've started tracking again, but I'm not back into my exercise routine-- I've been telling myself that packing is exercise, but of course that's not true! Since I broke my running streak, it's easier to put it off, especially since I know I'll probably break it again next week in those last panicky days before I go and on moving day itself.
I'm also having second thoughts about the move/change. It's just the normal nerves, and it's too late anyway because I've already given up the apartment and jobs here, but I can't help sometimes thinking it was a stupid choice. If I don't find a fair amount of online work and line up a real job when I finish down there, in November I could find myself unemployed and homeless with $1500 in the bank!
It will all work out. It always does. But still... Sigh. Whine.