I just wrote a very long blog post. Not a very nice one.
I want to curl up with my dead dog, except I want her to not be dead. She was a sneaky smarty. She followed me everywhere and got unreasonably upset during thunderstorms and had a way of leaning against me so that I’d lose my balance. So much sweet. Half-golden retriever, but you couldn’t really tell, except in sunlight you could see small flecks of gold in her otherwise jet-black coat.
I’m a soon to be member of two gyms, which is amusing since up until a few months ago I kinda thought gyms were icky. Now it is the only thing I do consistently! Hooray! I bike on the bike thing instead of real biking because real biking is fucking dangerous and I no longer own a bike. And I walk up the stairs over and over. And I lift heavy things up and put them back down.
Gymming makes me less horny. My body is too concerned about recovering to think about sex all the time. It’s a kinda nice change. I mean, I can still get horny. I’m just not always horny.
Searching for work is like the worst thing ever. Trying. Not. To. Panic.
I will tell you a secret: I’m writing this random post specifically to test a ifttt recipe. I really don’t have anything important to say.