I’m a little afraid of my potential for obsession sometimes. I’m of the slash-and-burn variety, I think, in that I’ll be gung ho for something for a couple weeks, a couple months, and then lose all interest. Case in point: the doula thing. I was all excited about that for a while and was doing all this research and everything, right up until I discovered that I literally could not afford to build up a client base, were I to do it. And then I went home and got to hang out with my little buddy Jacob who is a very nice baby but who also was a lot of work and also cried a lot, newsflash. I still like babies fine, and I would like to encourage all my friends and acquaintainces who either have them or are working on having them, but I don’t know about working with them full time, you know? And hence, the doula thing is indefinitely on hold.
Right now I don’t have any major obsessions; even my furor to research every aspect of my Europe trip has died down a little. I have been so efficient at figuring things out logistically that pretty much all I have left to do is buy a bunch of stuff, show up at the airport, get on the plane, get jet lagged, and go for it. It’s a little sad, actually…I was so fired up the first three weeks of thinking about it that I don’t have very much left to do. (Except make more money so I can buy more stuff, of course).
What I do have is sort of dorky: I have a bunch of little notebooks I’m carrying around with me. One is for my regular expenses, which I am trying to track for the next four weeks to get an idea of where the hell all my money goes every month. One is for all things trip-related, but is separate from the other little notebook that’s for trip-related expenses incurred before I even go. Although I am thinking I may retire that one and just go for one pan-trip notebook. I’ve thought about getting another little notebook to track my food, but I’m afraid that that’s going to make me twitchy and annoying and also because it just ooks me out to think about going through my life with my little armada of notebooks, fussily noting everything down, missing the beautiful scenery because I’ve got my head in various statistics. And now there’s a new notebook, as of Saturday, and that’s for keeping track of my…I’m slightly embarrassed to admit this, but whatever…workout stuff.
I’m trying to get a little more serious about exercising, this last couple of weeks. I don’t think I’m in danger of becoming obsessed with working out, certainly, especially as I don’t enjoy it all that much, but even the three times I’ve used it since Saturday I’ve found it helpful. I just feel so stupid writing everything down, every time I finish one of the machines. I sort of feel like I’m taking myself a little too seriously somehow. Like, obviously I’m not a person who really exercises, so why am I bothering, right.
But you’re never going to believe what I did this morning, especially those of you who have known me for a long time and are familiar with my tastes, character, and temperament. Never going to believe it. Never ever ever. I woke up early today and went to the gym in the morning before work.
Let me just repeat that again: I woke up early today and went to the gym in the morning before work.
I am, clearly, stupidly proud of myself for this. I still haven’t caught that endorphin high I’ve been hearing so much about…the only high I ever get at the gym is one that seems more akin to my self-righteousness receptors, or something, because you know I always strut out of there with my head held high like some sort of show pony, with this internal monologue running through my head: “That’s RIGHT! I went to the GYM! Me, Miss Lazy McLumpypants! To the GYM! Where I worked OUT! Not going to get diabetes in MY old age, no ma’am! Unh! Let me hear you now…Chiara worked OUT!” It’s immensely satisfying.
So maybe the little workout notebook is doing its job. Maybe it will have a talk with its little notebook brethren and cause me to get my finances in order and also to have an excellent Europe trip. Maybe I can find a way to be organized yet not obsessive…wait, let me just write this down a minute.