I've spent the entire day indoors. Dublin's winter cold was accompanied by a persistent drizzle today, and I simply couldn't force myself to stir from the safety of our 4 thin walls, warmed by an electric fireplace look-alike.
The fireplace is actually a nice addition to the room. It's equipped with a mantle, which provides a very studious-looking spot for Liam's best books, flanked on either side by the bookends Mother sent him, and during this holiday season, it can be festooned with stockings and holly plucked from Liam's mam's garden. The flickering light, meant to resemble the dancing flames of an actual fire, are oddly comforting. My mind is evidently easily fooled.
Instead of my morning run, I blared Toadies music and crunched and lunged my way to a more toned naked figure, the changes perceptible only to me, and probably I'm fooling myself even then.
After a lukewarm shower and 30 minutes of basking under the bathroom heater, I emerged cleaned and blow-dried, ready to attempt a journal entry. It was successful only in the fact that I put words on empty paper; I wouldn't call the writing profound, but an exercise is an exercise, at least, that's what I'm deeply hoping today. Both my abs and my career depend upon it.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment