Last night I weighed myself, for the first time in months. I weigh 58kg. So, um, what's the big deal? Well, 58kg is my ideal climbing weight - the weight where I'm light enough to pull myself up on one arm, without being so skinny I'm weak and pathetic. So, in honour of that, and the urge to be physically active All The Time, I'm going climbing tonight. It's been a while, that broken toe and a grumpy ogre working at Fergs having killed my motivation for a while. But the motivation seems to be on an upswing at the moment, so we'll strike while the iron's hot, make some hay while the sun shines and get the fish n chips while the shop's open.*
Sadly, I missed aikido last night. That's because I was busy helping my friend kick out her sperm donor. He turned out to be a little, um.. needy, ever so slightly lacking in common sense, and into talking about airy-fairy bollocks (when we packed up his gear there was a leaflet from the Theosophical Society1 *shudder*) pretty much constantly. The final straw was when he brought home a bunch of ham etc he'd found in a rubbish bin behind Woolworths, and tried to feed it to her.
So, we packed up his stuff and left it out on the porch with the door locked (yeah she had informed him he was evicted earlier), and I hung around till he'd gone. It was all a bit of a nonevent really, he went quietly. But, lesson learned for her, I guess. And apparently he 'left a deposit', so to speak. *shudder again*
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* Yes, I did make that up, but it's more apt than hay or iron so nyah.
1 It was a pamphlet about Masters. Apparently there are six levels of initiation for these Masters (of the Universe! Whee!). I got to the bit where it said there are no women Masters because the energy is wrong and felt my braincells fleeing to warmer climes. Bollocks, I say!
Thank you, notnot