I don’t know if Schoolhouse Rock played anywhere else around the world, but those here in the U.S. will likely enjoy a little nostalgia.
Three may be the magic number but it’s going to be the death of me. No matter what time I go to bed – nine, ten, eleven or twelve – I always wake up at that hour of three. Three exactly on the hour. The crazy part is I feel great! Maybe wired but great and full of a lot of energy.
My geeky husband, Maurice, is rebuilding his laptop this weekend so I was waking up this morning as he was going to bed (he becomes obsessed). Of course it was 3am. We’re both puzzled. There are no planes, trucks,trains or anything we can come up with that runs regularly at that time. My damn body just thinks 3am is a good time to rise and shine.
It wouldn’t be so bad except $850 in Los Angeles gets you an apartment the size of a matchbox, and that’s considered a great deal. When I wake up at 3am, I have to tiptoe around for 5 hours so I don’t wake my sleeping beauty. Usually I can at least get on his laptop in the next room, but not this weekend since he’s rebuilding his system.
I’m eating great! Much healthier, better portions and not as much. I’m also moving around much more – walking for God’s sake!!! I should be able to weigh myself on Wednesday. If I haven’t lost I’m going to punch someone.
My mood meter is a touch call for yesterday. I was all over the place like a tennis ball. For a bit I was a four, then a six, then three, then six, then four, then seven, and so on. I had no choice to choose the middle which came out to be five but in no way was I stable at all.