Dawn Is Me

So, it’s Christmas Eve … technically, I suppose it won’t really be ‘Eve’ until it’s … um … evening …

… and here I am, thinking not about gifts or family or other related schlock but about exercise.

That’s because I’m planning to go jump around my living room shortly.

I keep promising myself that I’m going to start taking better care of myself and I keep breaking my promise. That sucks.

In most situations in which I have to make time-management decisions pitting my body against my business, my business usually wins.

Balance? Surely, you jest.

Those are just excuses. My reaction to the multiple stresses and bouts of depression I deal with is very different from Dear Spouse, but I do have them. I just try not to inflict my shit onto the innocent bystanders around me.

(That usually results in many of the people around me having difficulty in figuring out if and when I’m bummed about something. That has its pros and cons.)

Right now, I’m thinking about aerobics. That’s just one piece of the whole picture. My family is broken. Nobody can fix it but me.

I have work to do in 2009. That’s good; it’ll keep me occupied.