I'm back in Chicago, and the laundry's almost done. Sometimes it feels like all I do is laundry. Luckily, I had Battlestar Galactica
episodes to keep me company -- that show is such a soap opera, but I love it. In three episodes, they managed to make me cry three times. The weepiest was at the end of the journalist episode, when she's making that poignant speech about the military, the thin blue line, the weight of the uniform, etc. Pure manipulative drivel (as is underlined by what happens at the very end of that episode), but remarkably effective nonetheless. No wonder people get so caught up in nationalistic fervors and the like.
I've been putting it off, but now I'm going to go exercise, dammit. I got yesterday off as an exhausting travel day (and besides, we had folks over for dinner and a lovely little three kings gift exchange), but from now on, exercise every day. I mean it. Do you hear that, subconscious? No shirking anymore, no deciding that really it's more important to organize the coat closet or put away the Christmas decorations or invent a new literary organization. Just get your butt over to that treadmill right now. Yes, I mean you.
Don't worry. I promise, World of Warcraft will wait patiently for your return...