They can’t get out they can’t get out THEY CAN’T GET OUT AND THEY’RE LOSING THEIR MINDS!!! Dear god, please help me figure out what to do with them, and myself, and the baby that Kathryn Grayson is going to be birthin’ in Showboat. Amen.
Spent much of yesterday floundering. Sundays are no laughing matter around here. I have much horrible Monday Anxiety, even if it is hard to discern a Monday from a Saturday or any other day of the week.
But I love the movie versions of Showboat because they are full of the misery and stupidity of real life. Paul Robeson’s voice is a beautiful thing. All those voices are beautiful, coming as they do from decades past. It’s a great antidote to impossibly cheery modern movies.
So, to sum up this stupid mungled Monday (yes, I made that word up, and it perfectly describes today), I did good with the Keto regimen. Today’s theory on cravings is that I should get more fat, so I did a bulletproof coffee thing, and what with the limited number of hours I was actually awake, I am quite satisfied and made my macros.
I will try to make tomorrow better. No way it can’t be better. No way, indeed.