Monday morning log

This was initially supposed to be a Monday morning log — it’s Friday now, a public holiday in the part of the world where I am at the moment, and both of us find ourselves at the office. We wanted to switch things up and not be at home, not be comfortable in our pyjamas watching TV or something of the sort. It’s a little difficult writing here though because people keep passing by and I get self-conscious because these are my private thoughts (albeit on a public space). Also, my husband just turned towards me from the desk next to mine and asked (with the biggest, goofiest grin, mind you) if he could take me out for coffee. Said I looked cute and he wanted to imagine what it would have been like having me as a colleague. Little things like these just light up my day.

*    *    *

Last night was fun. A bunch of us — nine, to be precise — went out for some Chinese food. As always, I felt like a greyhound among golden retrievers but for once, I didn’t mind it at all. I know I don’t talk much and seldom find myself into the center of a given conversation but I tried and that’s all that matters. People mentioned the cake I’d made and wanted to know more about it. What a funny and lovely and strange thing life is — I’m finally doing what I love but it cannot pay me. And that’s okay too because it’s still The Thing I Love. There was an anecdote floating around where I heard my husband say he makes chai a certain way and I just had to slide my two cents in and add that he doesn’t make the chai any longer because I do. Laughter ensued.

I’ve really been enjoying my ex-crew now-pixie cut. It is a bit of a pain to have to fix my hair every morning but I’ve gotten the hang of it and it’s not so bad anymore, especially not after they’re fixed. I don’t think I want to live with a ponytail ever again. Wow — imagine someone from around here reading about my ponytail or lack thereof. These guys don’t deal in anything other than “real” science.

How’s my book reading been going? It kind of hasn’t. The past week seems like a blur, some of it just passed by in ill health and the rest working around the house. Among the more exciting things I’ve done is (unintentionally) getting lost on the train and panicking and having my husband leave work early to come and fetch me because I’m a big old baby who cannot use Google Maps. You gotta be braver, baby girl. Anyway, I’m looking forward to that coffee date even though it’s too late for a coffee — maybe we could have some fries and a hot chocolate instead? And then I can hit the gym tomorrow. Yes. That’s something new on my end. I’ve been trying to be more physically active besides the weekly walks. My old bones tell me it’s time for some real exercise. So I get on the elliptical every now and then, whenever I can, but am in the process of being more punctual with it.

Here’s my problem — I’ve always been body-conscious (and for no good reason!) and the thought of walking down the hall, through the staircase, past all the people in the lobby, and in a gym with possibly other people just makes me want to curl right back up into my shell and not even poke my head out. It’s just brain chemicals, as I always tell myself. It’s just brain chemicals. And so, the other day, I made the “journey” to the gym — even said hi to the manager in the lobby — and made a beeline for my favourite machine. There was even someone else there, the StairMaster guy (as we like to call him) but we were both minding our own respective businesses so it was fine — it was even nice, in fact, and felt like I had a gym buddy who is not already hot. Yeah, I use words sometimes, I’m not that old.

*    *    *

I’m excited about winter. And I’m grateful — grateful that I get to spend every day with someone I love.