The Sucky Part Of Moving

Fish. Not to eat, but as pets. They don't travel well, not when you're moving clear across the country. No one would take them, not friends or pet stores. Cripes, we never would have set the tank up if we thought we'd move as soon as we wound up moving.

We had to dispense with the fish tonight. Well, the Spouse Thingy did. I couldn't stand the idea of doing it myself. I mean, they're just fish but it's not like they deserved to die or anything. We asked around, and the consensus seemed to be that the kindest, quickest way to kill them would be to lower the water level and then dump a load of ice in the water.

Well, it worked. The Spouse Thingy says they were gone before they knew what hit them.

I feel like such a heel.
Poor damn fish :(

I’m tired.

Not like physically tired, not even mentally or emotionally tired. Just… tired. It’s not depression, just a realization that I’m tired of being in pain, I’m tired of never knowing how I’ll feel from one day to the next, and I’m especially tired of being so out of shape. I want to look like this and this again. I want to be thin again, and I especially want to be fit again.

Maybe it’s Wil Wheaton’s fault. He hit 30 yesterday and I started thinking about how great 30 was for me. That was pre-fibromyalgia, I had endurance, I was active, I felt good all the time; what’s funny is that I really thought I was overweight back then. I think I was about 150 pounds, but looking at those pictures, most of it was muscle. I had fat calves. I know I had fat calves. But dangit, I felt great and looked a whole lot better then.

The last few years haven’t been terribly kind to my body; being whacked with FMS put me back a few steps, and since then I’ve had fits and starts at getting back into an exercise program. I’ll get going on something, do it for a couple months, and then something happens and I stop… pain flares, a semester ends and I’m not working out in a class, more pain flares, a brain tumor…

I know, intellectually, that I’ve had legitimate reasons for backing off on exercise, but I’m also using those reasons as excuses. I’ve got to quit doing that.

Sure, yes, working out hurts. But I also know I’m capable of working past the pain, of getting through it. I’ve done it before; I can do it again. The tumor was a hell of a scare; I’ve got to get into shape, I’ve got to give myself the chance to be as healthy as I can, in spite of anything else going on in my body. The extra weight I’m carrying now isn’t helping anything.

It’s probably why I’m so tired.

So. We’re going to move to Ohio next week, find a place to live, and then I’m getting back to the issue of getting into shape, and staying there. I think I’ll start a second blog, someplace I can publicly chronicle my workout efforts, someplace friends can keep on my ass about sticking to it. Someplace I’ll be accountable for what I do.

Besides, I’m going to get that convertible at some point, and I want to look good driving it. ;)