Waking up later and later. Luxury.
Walking in to the gym and hear a song that shakes me to my very core. It's Ronan Keating butchering Cyndi Lauper's Time After Time.
The point of this song is a brittle Cyndi singing about the memories of a past relationships, not the boorish and vainglorious Ronan Keating warbling. I imagine he sings it with his fists clenched and his eyes shut.
I make a mental note to ostracize anyone from now on who admits to owning anything to do with this idiot. Some things are supposed to be sacred you tosser.
Manage 8 reps of bicep hammers with 42lb on each arm.
This is because
Over-sized biceps make you interesting to talk to, a hit at parties and kind to animals.
In Sainsbury's for the traditional post work-out shop for the day's food. Spot this in the place where they sell mashed up fruit in cardboard containers...
Have you ever heard of yumberries?!
No matter what berries go into these drinks (dingleberries even?) it's odd how they always end up tasting like strawberry and banana. Have you ever eaten some exotic food that doesn't taste like chicken? I ponder this question for 4 seconds.
Spend 33 minutes on the phone to The Boy On the Right in South Africa.
He's having a midlife crisis just as everyone does a few weeks before their birthday. The mid-twenties can be a real bummer. Wait until he hits 30. I don't say that to him though.
Afternoon nap time has slipped a bit even though I budget a whopping 37 minutes for this activity.
Stick on a load of washing. Whites.
Asking myself the question everyone else is asking themselves, where will you be in 2019?
I can't even guarantee to you that I will still be alive. I really do hope I am.
Will you still be here? Will this blog still be here? Will I be in London? Will you still know me?
How's this for profound? I'm only scared about the future because of what's past.
Imagine being able to say that in ten years I'll be married to a wonderful lady and have two young kids, a Volvo and a golden retriever named Sandy. And then hell freezes over. Thinking about this topic makes me anxious and depressed so I leave it.
Watch three episodes of Curb Your Enthusiasm Season 3. Particularly the episode where Susie accuses Larry of getting her kid drunk. This is TV gold.
Consider beddy-byes and dreams of 2019. I get a glass of water and some warm towels incase I wake up screaming and sweating.