(apologies to Murakami)

I said I’d start running if I lost fifteen pounds and I did it. I’m considering signing up for a $60+ 5k just to make sure I really do it.

I was going to have all this time in the summer to write and now I’m cramming my weeks with classes in the hopes of making enough to build my shed. I can’t even schedule the foundation and patio, because M isn’t ready. I’m fighting and clawing for each tiny step forward now. It’s nice for him to have fishing, but I’m stuck in this half-made bed when he leaves and that’s tough. It turns me into a crocodile.

Anyway. I’ve got several workshops coming up (fingers crossed) which takes the sting out of my lost uni job, but also means that I won’t have that writing time I thought. Hopefully I can at least carve out some running time. I wish I didn’t feel alone in all these sacrifices.

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