I feel like I've slept more than my cats recently. And that is saying something. I had an insanely busy weekend that was pretty much nonstop social events, work, and workouts the whole weekend (although I did fit in Morning Glory, which is a super cute movie that all chick flickers will enjoy). So it didn't surprise me that I hit the pillow pretty early on Sunday night.
And then Monday morning happened. I woke up after 11 hours of sleep, and still felt exhausted. I was exhausted and blah feeling all day. None of my muscles seemed to want to work and I just wanted my big bed of fluffy cozy awesome.
Enter Monday night, I go to bed early again, in hopes of getting up to make up for my lack of Monday morning workout the next day. Nope, slept til 8:35. Nine plus hours of sleep. Not cool.
Bittersweet part of this weird illness. Despite smaller more pathetic workouts, my scale seems to be agreeing with the sickness. Ok, so its not really bittersweet, that part is quite awesome, but still.
I guess when I think about it, its something that I could totally deal with. Way more sleep than normal, and the scale goes down? Sounds fantastic. Until I die of the newest form of Monkey/Elephant/Water Buffalo disease.....
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