I like eating an apple a day. I don't always remember to bring one with me, but I'm generally happy having one for a mid-morning snack because it tides me over very well and I don't feel guilty eating it. This morning's apple is a yucky mess inside. There are no visible signs of this on the outside - no bruises, no little worm holes, nothing! I'm writing a post because I'm doing my damndest to stay away from the vending machine full of non-natural-sugar-stuff and all that is made in salt heaven. I'm hungry though.
Some good news: My high school friend, Mary, is going to visit. She's on her way today. My house is a disaster, but I don't think she'll mind. Mary's (thankfully) the kind of person who will relax in any (literally ANY) environment and still keep a cheerful conversation going. I think she can handle the strewn laundry, dust beagles (I don't own any bunnies), scattered papers and things (read: boxes full of stuff, mattress set, TOYS TOYS TOYS) pulled up from the basement while people work on turning that unfinished space into a room. And even though she's pretty great, I'll try to keep her in the kitchen or out of the house until Sunday when she has to head home.
I'm excited Mary's coming. I may have to drag her to the gym if she gets in by then. What a welcome, right? "Hi, nice to see you after your 5-6 hour road trip. Are you ready to walk for a half hour? Let's go!" Yep. I'm going whether she's here or not. I owe it to myself for missing the gym and EVERYTHING I PLANNED TO GET DONE Wednesday and having a really sucky time trying to catch up ever since. So, gym time is for me. I hate going there. I hate walking for thirty minutes, but I love blogging that I did it when I'm done. My reward is telling you. :)
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