I walked into the gym Monday morning and the lady behind the counter said, "Long time no see, stranger!" That'll make a girl feel good.
Going to gym made me remember what it's like to be human again. To have a life and a routine that doesn't include working from sun-up to CSI: Miami (god, I love that show).
(Side note: Did you know that Rob Zombie is directing next week's episode?)
Lately, I live and breath work, which could be worse because I love my job, my colleagues and my company. BUT when I wake up at 3am remembering things I forgot to do and have to write them down on a post-it next to my bed, it becomes pathetic...
Mr. T has been great with my insane schedule. And even more so, with my recent attempts at achieving some level of normalcy. He's single-handedly been running our household, as I'm pretty much perpetually in one of three states: 1) at work, 2) in transit, or 3) on the couch watching Dexter. If I had to pick a fourth state, it'd be "drunk".
(I'm saving the subject of Dexter for a later blog post... YES! it's that important.)
I've happily included a pic of Justin Timberlake on a motorcycle as an example of abnormality, if only to make myself feel better. I like the guy, don't get me wrong, but any former boy-bander would look wrong with rolled up cuffs, a backpack, and a helmet.
Lastly, I was accosted by a crazy lady in the subway two weeks ago. Literally, I was shoved and a bag I was holding went flying out of my arms and almost went over the platform and onto the tracks. I begun yelling vulgarities at her, as an involuntary response, and soon realize that if she's crazy enough to shove me and then resume her blank staring at the wall, I probably want to watch myself before I get murdered or worse...
If I was David Caruso, I would now say something vague and painfully serious, like "... and we're not going to let that happen..." and then the loud screaming of The Who would kick in.