I climb a bunch of stairs to get to work. I am glad that at the top there is a couch in the hall where I can pretend to arrange my coat and things while I am actually catching my breath and returning to a resting heart rate. I also get to look at a fun poster.
When I was visiting my sister last year she mentioned that she was doing a gluten-free thing to help with some gastro something. I love arbitrary food rules as much as the next person who can afford such things, so at the beginning of the year I decided to eat no wheat. One month in and I feel exactly the same, but I am going to keep it up because it's a great way to make V's lunchbox cookies last through the end of the week. You would think that a grown woman could just tell herself "don't steal cookies" and make that work, but you would be wrong.
There's another big snowstorm predicted for tomorrow night, and I hope it waits until after 6pm to begin in earnest as V has started working as a barn-helper on Sunday afternoons and the car I'm using is really terrible on ice or snow. Or rain, really. It's a car for driving a Phoenix foursome from the retirement village to the golf course. I felt pretty good driving it on Friday, though, with the window down as I reveled in the 50℉ sunshine. Everyone on the road was doing the same thing—I could hear all the radios clashing.