Have you ever been working on a thing, let’s say, writing, and hit a nice groove and are typing along, thoughts flowing steadily, then all of a sudden, someone not only turned the faucet all the way off, but s/he turned it all the way righty-tighty, twisted off the handle, and threw it into the lake? Let’s say, the Pond at Central Park. Where the rowboats are. Where I’m sure lots of other faucet handles and maybe a few dead bodies are. Raccoon bodies and human torsos. And now I’m screening the lake, and it’s gross and biohazardous and the tourists think I’m odd, and I can’t find the handle. Nothing but an event of Excalibur proportions would make it appear. Ah, yes. The handle would levitate, glowing with creative magic; it would float from the lake all the way back to the faucet – which is my brain – reattach itself, go lefty-loosy, and water would at first trickle, then become a steady stream.
I wish that would happen. Last Monday’s nostalgia entry just sits there, unpublished, incomplete. I’m trying to refocus to refinish the post, because as you’ll recall, the dang thing disappeared on me. I want to write this post, though. But, I want to make sure I do it right. I can’t find my faucet handle. So, people, I’ve hit a rut, but I’m determined to write every day, still. It might be disjointed and random and I may use the word and way too many times in a sentence and I would like a grilled Swiss cheese sandwich. With tomato.
Not that I normally keep track of these numbers, but when I was at my very fittest, I weighed 14 pounds less than I do right now. Shedding all that weight in 6 weeks is extremely unrealisitic, since I gained it over a year and a half, but that weight is a huge factor in how my body responds to working out. I could lose half of that and be perfectly content, since that puts me in the range I weighed most of my adult life. I say “most” because I have to be honest and count the summer I worked at a bagel shop. So, May. Start pounding the pavement/asphalt. Get back on your bike.
Oh. I joined a rec center, actually the city’s network of rec centers. Because I need a pool to practice swimming. I’ve been visualizing my freestyle stroke; hopefully I can make it work at the pool.
And maybe that’s where my faucet handle is.