Built a barbecue!
General notes: 50mg Elvanse at 06.30. Do a bad job remembering to eat today.
Mental notes: Fine, mainly, but pretty groggy by the end of the day due to lack of eating, I think.
Physical notes: Didn’t even check heart rate but it didn’t feel uncomfortable. Appetite not actually awful, was hungry but kept missing opportunities to eat and so got very sleepy by 16.00.
I get up even earlier, at 06.30, because I have an article to do before 08.00. This would have been inconceivable a fortnight ago. And I actually do the article, too! Then I finish the story for my Dad, who I am meeting for lunch. I forget about breakfast.
I sit at my desk until five minutes past when I was meant to go and get ready, then walk to work with Joe. I am chattering again, enjoying the little morning high.
I have a reasonably tedious day’s work, not helped by the fact that ‘lunch’ ended up being a pint (Dad) and a Coke (me) at the pub. I have a full-sugar Coke instead of the diet version for the first time in a long time – I figure I need the sugar. I’ve done a reasonable job in convincing myself that the sugar-free stuff is better, but I’m wrong. Of course I’m wrong.
Dad has bought his suit for the wedding, which is encouraging, and doesn’t seem to upset at the idea of me being on medication. He’s never been one for paternal admonishment.
I am light-headed by the end of the day, and regret not grabbing something on the way back to work. I tell Joe to come by the office on his way back, just past 18.00. H&H have very generously given us a fancy charcoal barbecue as a wedding present, saving the environment at least two of the disposable buggers a week, and we cart it home.
When home I stuff my face with a few tortilla chips for energy and make the fatal error of suggesting we build the new barbecue and cook dinner on that. The building is done quickly enough (I am proud to say that I did quite a lot of it, actually – I deciphered the hieroglyphics instead of giving up and waiting for Joe), but the heating of the coals and the sterilising of the pan for its first use takes ages and both of us are fractious by the time the burgers get on the grill. Everything smells like smoke. The neighbours are going to hate us. But it is delicious.
The household mood improves after a nice chow-down, and we settle into a gorgeously mundane Friday evening (we are not fun people, I’m afraid). I’m definitely meant to be PMSing by now but I’m barely crying at Queer Eye. Tragedy. I’ll try again tomorrow.
I sleep easily and deeply from about 23.30.
Featured image: original image by Mapbox, https://github.com/mapbox/maki/graphs/contributors [CC0], via Wikimedia Commons