Oh my dear lord or whoever else may be in heaven, this sucks.
I guess I’d better explain. I’m on about the sixth day or so of going whole-hog into healthy eating. I’ve mentioned here and there on the Blog Thing before that I’ve been watching what I’ve been eating a bit more, and that has been the truth as far as it goes. I’ve been pretty half-assed about it, honestly: a few days of watching what I was eating, and then “ah well, I’ve been good, how ‘bout burgers”, lather, rinse, repeat. It was certainly better than doing nothing at all, and I did lose some weight at it, but a particularly debaucherous July 4th weekend, and the resulting two-day stomach-ache that followed, convinced me to join Team Healthy for real. Goodbye things that were really only a step or two divorced from DiGiorno Pizza and Cookies, hello multi-grain flax bread!
Also, at least for the last day or so, goodbye sanity, hello GREEEAAAERRRGHHH!!! As my body is rocked by, and begins to roll with, these massive changes, my moods and energy levels change lanes rapidly, at will, without signals. The two most common modes I’m operating in are (1) lethargic, hungry, and mentally on the moon, and (2) FEELING LIKE I HAVE BECOME THE HEALTHIEST, MOST FIT AND ENERGETIC MAN ON THE FACE OF THE PLANET EARTH! Neither of these feelings is particularly enjoyable or productive. To wit: I started to sketch out tomorrow’s Trick Tuesday installment twice this afternoon. First, while in lethargy land, I ended up with the least promising first line I’ve ever written: “One on One: you know, that’s a pretty solid album.” Ehh, no. Second pass, this time in SUPER ACTIVE MAN mode, I ended up with a sentence that lasted a paragraph and said nothing at all intelligible, save maybe for establishing that Cheap Trick did, in 1982, issue an LP entitled One on One. Ehh, no, again; I promise you, dear readers, that the published piece will spare you both of the above misfires.
I went through all of this once before, back in the late ‘90s, at which time I was very successful for about a year or so, but was simply too much in my mid 20s to really take it all the way. That time, the manic stuff lasted about three or four days, after which everything became a lot easier. Here’s hoping that the intervening decade-and-a-piece hasn’t altered that time table too much; honestly, knowing that I’m halfway through the obnoxious part would be truly excellent.
At this point, I’ve begun to yawn – and, as such, diminished coherence probably isn’t too far behind. Best at this point to raise a glass of sugar free lemonade to you, dear readers, in hope for an easier day tomorrow. Should any of you find yourselves at Checkers this evening, enjoy one for me, would ya?