HITTING A BRICK WALL

I must admit that the “Year of Me” is faltering ever so slightly.  I woke up ridiculously fatigued yesterday and dragged my sorry old butt over to the fridge where I contemplated the nutritional value of yogurt versus a chocolate peanut butter finger.  Of course, it goes without saying that the chocolate peanut butter finger won. Oh come on, you know you would have chosen the peanut butter finger too! 

Later in the morning I heaved my lumpy torso up the stairs and popped in the Yoga DVD.  I decided for educational purposes, and to ensure that I do not torture my body wrongly in future yoga poses, to sit and watch the DVD thoroughly.  Myself and the peanut butter finger both agreed that there were perhaps some good reasons to continue on with Yoga and I even cheered on the rather sickly sweet Yogi when she gracefully went from Warrior Pose 3 to Downward Dog with not even a wobble.  Personally, I am determined to become that graceful as I certainly would not want to repeat my Downward Dog debacle from the other day where I became unsteady, tipped over like a cow, fell sideways onto my couch and eventually slid down on the floor with a resounding thud where I laid for a good 10 minutes moaning and groaning.

Feeling a tad more enthused, I joyfully ran down the stairs in an attempt to have something more healthy for breakfast, have a hot steaming shower and bound outside for some blue sky and fresh air.  In reality, another peanut butter finger called my name and I flopped on my couch guiltily covered in the remnants of my chocolate frenemy and stared at my ceiling for an inordinate amount of time contemplating the meaning of my existence (in other words, I was taking a nap) before my phone rang and brought me out of my chocolate stupor.

After a short but sweet call from my beloved, I spent the next 15 minutes in a staring contest with my dog.  I blinked and he won.  Damn his steely eyes.

The remainder of my day went as follows: I visited my mother where her geriatric but sweet little pooch threw up across my feet.  I came home where my crazy little hound gorged himself on dinner, ran around like a maniac and then came over and threw up on my lap.  My better half threw up in the garbage can while cleaning up my pooch’s throw up off my lap.  I threw up in the bathroom while I sponged out the rest of the dog’s throw up.

Suffice to say, I do believe that currently 2011 is kicking my sorry ass.  The tally stands as follows:

I peed my pants on the January 1.
I twisted my body into a painful pretzel on January 2.
I had two dogs throw up on my on January 3.

Yah, I know what you are thinking: 2010 all of sudden doesn’t look so bad, does it?

Until Next Time.
Smooches Pooches