Day Eight. Seriously?

I looked at my schedule for today last night and I thought...this is not going to happen. So I set my alarm, work up early, and worked out.

Granted, early in this case was 7:00 AM. Not 5:00 AM.

And I woke up to Dad on his Irish whistle, and every note said, "I hate you, Laura. I hate you, Laura." And I bitterly gathered my breakfast together, chewing my waffles while thinking, "I will jam that whistle down your trachea, old man."

I turned on the DVD, I worked out, and every punch and kick and whatnot was directed toward Dad's whistle instead of at Jillian Michaels. Because there is no excuse for a whistle before 9:00 AM. The whistle should come out after your family is awake. That is how you show them love.

Stupid whistle.

Anyway, now that 30 Day Shred is done for the day, I find myself with no end goal for the day, and I am somewhat listless. One would think I would be filled with glee at having nothing to dread. But no.

Instead I am obsessing about tomorrow and the weirdly awkward thing that will be happening. WEIRDLY AWKWARD THING, WHY DO YOU EXIST? Wish me luck, everyone. Because I will need it.

And it has been a whole week. Actually, a week and a day. And I have not quit this thing. So that's a good sign, right?