It's Okay To Look Like Grimace, Feel Like Grimace, and Waddle Like Grimmace If, In Fact, You Are Grimace

I've always had affinity with the McDonald's milkshake dude. I suppose it is because I've always felt like I was built like him and destined to morph into him and, well, know that I actually am him.

This is a Thursday post caused by the fact that no matter how hard I tried to get home during sunlight so I could get a run in, I didn't achieve the goal. I should know from normal routine that running in the morning, before I leave my house, is the way to go. If I go to my office, I get trapped with one item after another, so when I get home, I'm too tired to run (I do, however, walk on these days). I run best, though, when I reward myself for morning work.

I am absolutely amazed how 8 hours in the office only equates to emails being answered, advising getting done, and recommendations getting written. Meanwhile, all the other work piles up and the overwhelmed Crandall simply comes home to eat, then get back to it.

Last night, I craved piles and piles of Reese's Peanut Butter cookies. I realize this is stress related.

Oh, but you watch yourself every morning in the shower and you know, Crandall. You know. You can't take a day off from running. The genetics are against you.

Alas, if only I had a milkshake to drown my sorrows with---It's all good. I can't do ice cream in the cold months.

It's Thursday. Today will be another day.