Like an ice cream truck tinkling past the cemetery.

++Index++

WT: 225 lbs
AL: 0 (but may indulge in one or †wo beers tonight - we'll see)
CIG: 14 (but will probably smoke more this evening. :( )
EX: walked 4 miles (with a little jogging tossed in!), ran stairs, crunches, push ups
ENV: cleaned kitchen. laundry, dishes, desk and papers
_______________________

++Thoughts++

Back to the decks tonight after a week away so... not much time to wax poetic. Im sore and tired and got all misty at work today listening to a sad song. I probably should purge the sad music through a cd or two. Catharsis or wallowing? Oh who knows anymore. Im making it all up as I go along.

There's a poem somewhere in this post's title, I wish I had time to squeak it out. Maybe tomorrow.

Off to the disco, hope its a good one.