"Goin' down! Mayday! Mayday!"
Today's weight: 128.5 pounds. Temperature: 96.8?F.

Yep, that's how I'm feeling. Lousy, in pain, and horrid, all the way through.

'Course, I was bemoaning my fate this morning, thinking I was being unjustly punished, starving, feeling dreadful, and still fat -- but I'd forgotten Sunday, hadn't I? Nothing unjust about it. Consequences of fuckup.

Apparently I slept through no less than three snooze alarms this morning, as I found out when I indignantly asked A. why he turned the alarm off instead of turning on the snooze as I'd asked. Then slept some more -- no cardio for me. I was late as it was, just preparing my three meals.

one, 4 tablespoons 8-grain cereal, vanilla s/f syrup, tablespoon black raspberry s/f jam; cup egg sub with green salsa; green tea.

two, frittata with cup egg sub, cup spaghetti squash, the usual seasonings and tablespoon flax seed, two tablespoons tofu cream, s/f pancake syrup.

three, salad with Romaine, handful grape tomatoes, a roasted pepper, balsamic vinegar-mustard dressing; other pumpkin ryecake with pumpkin-Jello goo to put on top.

I feel like hell. Somehow, I must kick myself into a back and tricep workout tonight, plus a nice, long, painful cardio session. Yek. I've also got to clean the cat litter -- it's revolting.

All I want to do is go to bed, for a couple of days if possible. I'm tired of everything, including life, at the moment.

And our laptop is still dead. The tech at Radio Shack has been trying to get it, sort of, running enough to save some of our data -- I don't think he believed me, that the hard drive was truly farked, thought it was just a Silly Person software problem. Now, two days of frustration later, I think he's convinced.