Now It’s Really Sunday

Thank you Don Vassallo for the choir pictures! This is from our last concert.

Did I mention that I hurt my arm and have been going to physical therapy? Well, it keeps getting worse and worse and worse and so they are scheduling an MRI. Of course it’s Arm Cancer. I just get over the Bleeding Face Cancer and now this.

Here’s my plan for the day:

– Coffee and blogging and Echo.
– Start reading book again (I’ve tinkered and now I see what I’m left with.)
– Shower.
– Mediate (who would have freaking thought I would turn into a meditator??).
– Gym. (A little backwards, I know, showering before the gym.)
– Finish reading book.
– Look at myself in the mirror and obsess about my eyebrows.
– Oh, eat! At some point I must eat. At two points, really.
– Spend a few minutes expounding on the wonders of Finney’s belly.
– Perhaps take pictures of Finney’s belly.
– I hate the word belly when it comes to humans by the way, I prefer the word stomach, but with animals, belly is the proper word.
– Look at my own stomach/belly and go back and forth between “it’s cute” and “uh-oh, you have a stomach.”
– Call father at some point.
– Worry about something (dying, the cats dying, never finding love again, Joss Whedon never doing a TV show again, world cluster-fuck getting worse, our current government … oh I shouldn’t get started about that, I will implode, a spider might walk over me while I sleep, my cats might eat a spider, my hair is going to take forever to grow long enough to put in a ponytail again, the apocolypse. Just kidding about the last one.)
– TV TV TV TV TV. The 4400 starts up again tonight!