Into the Night

I feel cautiously optimistic. You will probably laugh at this.

After stopping for essentially a chicken dinner from work to home on Monday, I weened down to two hot dogs yesterday afternoon. Having seen my dad try, and fail, to quit smoking on multiple occasions, I know that quitting anything cold turkey usually is a recipe for failure. So I'm cycling down.

I packed extra snack bar type things, and crackers, for the ride home. I'm hoping, and praying, that today is a better day and that I don't want to lose my mind.

For dinner last night, I had pizza and salad, admittedly more pizza than salad though. 4 slices, which is probably one too many. My goal here is not to go on a Tibetan monk hunger strike, but rather to gradually decrease what I'm eating. I also know that I have to work out at some point in time. But here's my problem. We've got what amounts to an ellyptical downstairs that I'd love to use. But by the time I come home, from the unfettered, unbridled, unrelenting, unforgiving insanity and anxiety buffet that I work at, I turn into a parent. With the daughter getting teeth and my son so active, there's no time to decompress myself or even have downtime. Until everyone's in bed, at which time I have to (or attempt to) help the wife clean up, which has become such a bone of contention at home that it's almost arduous, because I so badly want to do it right and have a good ending to the day. However, how I clean up and how my wife cleans up are drastically different, and more often then not we end up fighting about it.

By the time that's all done, I just want to go to sleep. Or sit down and do something mindless like watch TV, play on the internet, get lost in twitter or whatever else. It's an excuse, but not a very good one.

So far today, Carnation's Instant Breakfast (chocolate. eh.), two cups of coffee and some crackers.