This weekend was pretty sweet - The Gal™ and I went to see Cirque du Soleil on Saturday night, after an incredible dinner of calamari, bruchetta, some lambchops for me and shrimp pasta for her, then my first go at creme brulee (yum, by the way). Unfortunately the night was cut short - tornado sirens cut through the din of the circus tent, and both audience and cast were herded out into the hot, muggy night to await our fate under a parking lot.
After an hour of waiting and a shirtful of perspiration (have I mentioned that I sweat more than the average person? Like... a lot more. On my list of things that I can't fix about myself but would if I ever ran across a genie it probably doesn't make the cut, but it's still a "thing" with me), the news came across the loudspeaker - the rest of the show was canceled. Boo! Thankfully they were quite accommodating and after a 40 minute phone call the next morning she and I had tickets to the next night's final performance. Sweet!
I don't know what I weigh - on Friday I was at 251, then Sunday morning (after than incredible meal) I was up to a bullshit 256. I decided to just not worry about the scale and instead go to the gym this morning - no small feat as I didn't get to sleep until 12 last night, so I'm coasting on less than five hours of snooze-time right now.
Oh, I'm also moving. Again.
Last move (a scant 3 months ago) had me pretty stressed out, but I don't think that this one will. I'm just looking to downsize my current apartment as I have far too much room for how much stuff I have and how much time I'm there, and quite frankly I needn't spend 20% of my takehome pay on rent. So I won't be after this month. Which means I have to go home and start packing again. Ack!
Maybe instead of putting pounds on during the stress of this move, I'll instead drop 'em? Sounds like a good plan. :)