Listening to Pandora right now (Avett Brother's station), it's a rainy, gray and very overcast Wednesday evening. I should not have ordered Girl Scout cookies from a cute little first grader at my school. I have already eaten about ten today, how can something so small and delicious be so bad? I think they should change the product and packaging of Girl Scout Cookies. It should just be Girl Scout Cookie. singular. One big huge Samoa cookie would be a better, more honest serving. They are not the kind of cookies people share anyways, they are hidden in the cupboard with the pots and pans. Eating many cookies is probably not much worse than eating a piece of cheese cake, or a donut, but the fact that I ate about ten makes me feel like a warthog, if I had eaten just ONE rather large cookie I would have gotten it over with quickly. Adding to this "pumba" feeling, I went to Turbo-Kick class tonight at the gym. Before class I felt sleek and healthy, pearly white skin, ruddy cheeks, cute curly hair. Why does the jumping, punching and kicking, which over time as I get more exhausted in the class lead to the plain old jiggling of my body fat, make me feel worse in the end?
Anyways, I'm fighting a head cold, daylight savings time, and discouragement. Tomorrow is another day: Hakuna Matata... means no worries for the rest of your days...it's not so bad being a warthog I guess. There are worse things.