Yesterday morning, I got myself up to the gym for 8.45 and came home an hour later feeling very sorry for myself. The rest of the day was a monstrous struggle. So I decided that today would be better.
And today is already better because it started a little earlier than usual, and I am reminded that I prefer the promise of the early morning to the hard scrabble of the end of the day. I've been bouncing around, making bacon bagels, tidying up, thinking about what to wear rather than just pulling on whatever's nearest, sitting down at my desk, water and apple to hand, thinking about the day's work and how best to do it. Insufferable, isn't it?
But I'm happy! I've got a sensible serious job of work to do today, and later I'm going out to supper and will be fed the best curry in London, so I have a reason to work hard. Carrot and stick, you see. I'm not running today because I've been going too far, too fast so I'll have a day off and lumber slowly round the park in the rain tomorrow. I feel well and bushy-tailed because I almost didn't drink last night and I've slept well, and had an early start and my day is full of promise...
It's Friday!
I'm going to go, before everybody's sick.
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