Chasing some thoughts as they flit through my tired brain
I like tea. Might have put too much sugar in this cup, though. I gave Roxy a kong toy with frozen peanut butter and dog treats stuffed inside. She chewed happily on it until she chased it under my desk. She was heading my way to tell me to fetch it for her just when I noticed that the gnawing sounds had stopped. Smart dog. I think I chose the wrong book to read. I want to read it, and I want to want to read it more, but I clearly don’t want to read it enough since I’m here typing instead of reading. I’ll read it. Tomorrow. Tomorrow is Tuesday. Tomorrow is almost February. Technically, today is also almost February. When does almost start? Definitely not earlier than halfway through the month before. I was having this conversation with someone about age recently. I’m almost 33. Who says that at this age? When you’re a month away from your 13th birthday, it makes sense to say you’re almost 13. Almost 9. Almost 16. But almost 33? Three weeks to go. So do I give in and just say I’m 33? I’m closer to 33 than 32. Or do I hold on to 32 (“as long as you ca-an”) until the actual day? Seriously, I wonder about this almost every day. The cardio machines at the gym ask me for weight (depressing, but that’s not one of the choices) and age. From a purely physiological (is that the word I’m looking for?) standpoint, 33 would be closer to the truth. I hope the machine doesn’t mind that I’ve been lying to it for almost six months. Almost.