Tonight when Christopher gets home from work, I'm going running for the first time in a week and a half. The last time I went running--before I got sick--there was a mere dusting of snow here and there, and the weather was generally somewhere around 30 degrees. Right now there are at least four inches of snow on the ground outside and the windchill is 11 degrees. Also, it is now pitch dark at 5 p.m. And did I mention: no running in TEN DAYS?
I'm feeling a little afraid. Also cold.
In other news, tomorrow morning I have to get up ridiculously early in order to leave my house to drive to an all-day conference some 45 minutes away--a conference that begins at the altogether unreasonable hour of SEVEN-THIRTY A.M.--for the sole purpose of earning six continuing education credits for the clinical psychology license that is the current bane of my existence (because it costs a FORTUNE, is nearly impossible to maintain when not working, yet would be nearly impossible to re-obtain later on if I let it lapse while I'm a stay-at-home mom, for reasons unique to my field and the inexplicably punitive nature of my state's psychology licensing board).
I cannot tell you how aversive it is to me to pay ungodly sums of money to attend a kajillion professional conferences each year, each one of which requires my husband to take a vacation day in order to stay home with our girls, most of which are extremely boring, and all of which take place out of town and so require me to take our only car for the day and spend around two hours on driving time alone. Yes, I guess an all-day professional conference is a "break" from the kids and all that. But honestly: sitting in an over- or under-heated hotel conference room with a bunch of strangers listening to 6-8 hours of often-uninteresting professional presentations without even getting a catered lunch out of the deal? Not my idea of a good time.
Do you think I need an attitude adjustment?