I said earlier that I’d have more to say, but I was wrong. I want to talk about other blogs, but I still haven’t read through the blogs I bookmarked. I want to talk about TV, but that’ll take more time than I have right now. Of course, that’s a self-imposed deadline, but I want to stick to it so I might actually get up and run tomorrow. I’ve stayed up too late every night since Saturday. It just keeps happening (yes, I know that makes me sound old), and I hate being up late when I know I have to get up early the next day. I start to get anxious, like on Sunday afternoons when you can feel your weekend ending (thanks, Jess, for bringing that up recently). I do the same thing if I realize I’m up past, well, my bedtime. No, I don’t have a bedtime. There’s just a time every night, different times on different nights, but usually around 11, when I get anxious about not being asleep. So I generally aim for 10, knowing I’ll probably miss. But aiming for 10 gives me some wiggle room.
Oh right. Running tomorrow. We were supposed to run this morning. The alarm went off at 6 and I turned on my light. Then I heard an unintelligible grunt from John.
Still muffled, but I thought I heard, “Rain.”
“Really? I don’t hear it.”
So I got out of bed and peeked out through the blinds. It was definitely wet outside, and if I listened hard, I could hear a rustle that could have been light rain. Good enough for me. I climbed back into bed, reset the alarm for 7, and went back to sleep. When he hands me an excuse like that, it’s hard not to take it.